Wrong
by Nialon
Summary: Angels are not supposed to drop out of the sky into motel rooms, broken and beaten. They're not supposed to bleed like that. It was all wrong.
1. Wrong

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or any of the characters in it.**

Something is wrong. Dean can feel it prickling under his skin, even as he lies in half awareness, not having made it to sleep yet. He's alert and tense immediately, one hand already reaching under his pillow to close around the hilt of his knife. Instinct runs deep, especially in the Winchester family.

Dean vaguely wonders if they could still be called a family.

The motel room is dark and silent, absent of the usual sound of the youngest Winchester's snores. Even in the darkness Dean can tell that his brother is gone, out with Ruby, commonly referred to as "demon bitch", the name bestowed to her by Dean with the amount of affection shown to a rattlesnake.

He was alone. Again.

_Jealous? _

Dean pushes away the familiar sinking feeling pooling in his gut and swings his legs over the bed, swiping his hand across the wall until he finds what he's looking for and light floods the room. Everything looks in place, except for the obvious.

Dean clears his throat and rips his gaze away from the empty bed next to his and ignores the resounding "_Where's Sammy_?" reverberating in his head. He's been doing that a lot as of late. Instead he reaches for the light again because he's still so goddamn _tired _and he really wants-

**CRASH.**

Dean nearly jumps out of his skin and barely avoids stabbing himself with his own knife as…_something _drops into the room and onto the floor on the other side of Sam's bed, knocking a lamp off the nightstand. The lights flicker and the television turns on, causing the hair on the back of Dean's neck to stand on end. He stands still for a moment, straining to hear anything and expecting for one of the dicks with wings to appear and start barking orders at him. But to his relief nothing happens and eventually Dean relaxes. Barely. The television clicks off and the lights steady and everything is silent. The hunter grips the knife tighter and edges around Sam's empty bed (_Where's Sammy?)_ to investigate. His hands tremble and the weapon drops to the floor at the sight before him.

Castiel, _his angel_, is writhing in pain on his side on the dirty motel carpet, bloodied and torn. The once beige trench coat is now in tatters and stained dark red, the patches of crimson growing larger by the second. For a moment Dean can't grasp what he's seeing, because angels aren't supposed to bleed like that. They shouldn't bleed at all, not on the floor in a shitty motel, not ever. But that's all everyone seemed to be doing these days, bleeding and bleeding until they were either an empty shell of what they used to be or dead. It's all so _wrong_.

Castiel's shirt is ripped open, one large gash running across his abdomen from side to side. The wound is very deep and it looks horrible. Cuts litter the angel's face and both of his shoes are missing. Dean can see his toes enclosed in the stockings curling with the pain, but that isn't what he's focused on because Dean glances at Castiel's back and he can suddenly _see _them. He doesn't understand why because they certainly weren't there a second ago. His breath hitches uncomfortably in his throat and his brain freezes because he can _see_ Castiel's _wings_ and he can't decide if it's the most beautiful or tragic thing he's ever seen in his entire life, on Earth and in Hell.

They're massive – almost too big – somehow managing to look unbelievably heavy and light at the same time. He's sure they would have been blindingly white, if not for the fact that they are completely drenched in blood. Patches of feathers are missing in places, though the ones that are left look as if they could fall off at any second. One of the appendages is lying under him; Dean is sure that it's causing him pain, but he really doesn't think Castiel is aware of where he is hurting, only that he _is _hurting. Dean can relate.

At the angel's pained gasp Dean springs into action and drops to his knees beside Castiel's shaking frame, well out of the way of the one wing that lies bent and broken, stretched out away from his body. Shaking a little himself, Dean reaches out a hand and rests it against a spot on the side of Castiel's neck, one of the only places devoid of blood. In response deep blue eyes roll up to meet green, hazy with unrelenting pain and pleading for something Dean isn't sure he can provide. Swallowing deeply the hunter quickly retrieves a towel from the bathroom and holds it to the gash on the angel's abdomen, wincing slightly when Castiel shudders weakly at the touch and tries to move away from the pressure, only managing a soft and low groan. His free wing twitches pathetically and Dean bites his bottom lip after watching a few feathers drift to the ground and disappear before his eyes travel back to the angel's pain ridden face. He has to get him off the floor, which is definitely easier said than done. He keeps applying pressure to the wound until the blood flow is stemmed before deciding to try and get Castiel to Sam's bed.

"Cas? Cas, this is going to hurt, but I need you to hang in there, okay?"

Dean's hands hover over Castiel, unsure of where to touch. Rolling him over would agitate his wings and the elder Winchester really didn't want to cause any more pain. But to his surprise the wings flicker briefly and then disappear, much like their sudden appearance. Dean's eyebrows knit together in confusion but he jumps on the opportunity quickly, placing one arm under Castiel's knees and the other around his back. He moves to lift the angel but ends up straining, finding that he was surprisingly heavy.

What the hell? Castiel is a lot of things, but fat is not one of them. Dean huffs out a breath and finally straightens up successfully, moving over to the bed. He gently sets Castiel down on his back and sighs deeply, looking down at his friend. The angel seems to have passed out from the pain (or blood loss), so Dean carefully removes what is left of the trench coat and jacket and throws them in a corner of the room to be forgotten immediately. Castiel's shirt is saturated in blood and Dean pales considerably, vaguely wondering if it was possible for an angel to be bled dry.

Now close enough to see the gash across Castiel's abdomen, Dean realizes how serious it is. The wound looks like a pulpy mess and the skin is torn ragged.

_Is that…_

Dean claps his hand over his mouth at the realization that he can see Castiel's stomach. If that's not something worth barfing over, it looks like someone…or some_thing _stuck their hand into the wound and just moved it around, almost like they were searching for something.

Dean clenches his jaw and finds a pair of scissors to cut the shirt off, hell-bent on saving Castiel.

_Me saving an angel. Who would've thought?_

Dean pulls himself together and gets to work, wishing more than ever that his brother is there with him.

After three grueling hours Dean declares his task done, slumping into a chair beside Castiel's still form and sighing wearily. His hands are stained red, his wrists are sore from where Castiel gripped them while in the throes of pain and he's still so goddamn _tired. _The last thing he needs is a severely injured angel falling out of the sky and into his motel room, especially not _Cas. _Never Cas. But here he is, lying on dingy motel sheets covered with who knows what, looking like death warmed over. Dean managed to stop the bleeding and clean him up a bit, but he couldn't do much with the gash and the angel still looks terrible. Ghastly, even. And the worst of it is that Castiel hasn't made a sound or movement since Dean placed him on the bed. The only sign of life is the slight up and down motion of the angel's chest. But what's even worse than that is the fact that Castiel hasn't healed himself. At all.

And that really, really worries Dean, because if the angel hasn't healed himself yet then maybe he _can't. _And that means that something is seriously wrong, something Dean can't even hope to fix because it's an angel problem and Dean has no clue what to do with _those _kinds of problems. Dean had tried calling Sam but received no answer. And if that didn't piss him off-

Castiel's eyes are open suddenly, bright and glassy, focusing on Dean immediately. The Winchester startles and almost falls from his chair because this is the most Castiel has moved in three _(felt like six) _hours and there's something so raw and desperate in that gaze and it's all so _wrong. _There's supposed to be calm and quiet intensity within the blue orbs, not agony and despair. Castiel's mouth opens and he struggles to breathe for a moment before rasping out one word that Dean shouldn't be able to hear because it's so soft it might as well be a breath in the wind. But he does hear and his heart lurches up into his throat.

"_Dean."_

Dean is up and at Castiel's side in a second, about to reach out but before his hand even twitches the angel's back arches hard up off the bed and Dean is momentarily terrified that his spine will break. That thought barely registers though, because the next thing Dean knows is that Castiel's mouth is open and a sharp burst of his true voice fills the room, causing Dean to slap both hands over his ears as he watches in horror as his angel starts to fall apart in front of him. Wide and panicked blue eyes are focused on Dean again, and the hunter realizes that Castiel has no idea what the hell is happening to him. Another shout of angel voice is dragged out of Castiel's mouth and he shuts it abruptly, obviously struggling to keep it closed. Instead he bites his lip so hard it begins to bleed. Dean realizes that he's doing it for him. The thought gives Dean little comfort because Castiel's skin suddenly seems paper thin, and before long the veins all over his body are visible. But that isn't the part that scares the holy hell out of Dean. No, it's the fact that his veins are _black._

_

* * *

_**Poor Cas. Should I continue with this or is it a lost cause?**


	2. Sleep of the divine

**First off, I have to say that I was never expecting such a big response for this story. I want to thank everyone who has reviewed and put this story on alert and on their favorites. You all make writing fun. :) **

Dean Winchester has seen many things in his life, horrid things, but what he sees now will surely stand out in his memory. Castiel is coming undone at the seams and Dean doesn't know how to stop it. Sweat beads across the angel's skin and he moans again, a low and desperate sound, breathing harshly as if there isn't enough air in the room. He is constantly shaking with tremors that wrack his frail body and his eyes dart around the room ceaselessly, giving Dean the idea that he doesn't know where he is. Dean's not even sure if Castiel even recognizes his presence anymore. Dean hasn't done anything about that yet because he's stuck on the _black veins _running throughout Castiel's body. He doesn't know what the fuck it is, but it's hurting his angel and so he has to stop it.

"Dean…"

Okay, maybe Castiel knows Dean is there. Dean watches as he fights to control his shallow breathing. After a few seconds of desperate breaths Dean sags a little and rubs at the angel's neck again.

"It's okay, Cas. Just hang in there." Dean knows it isn't okay, it's far from okay, and by the way he's looking at him Castiel knows that too. Shaking his head minutely, Castiel reaches a trembling hand up, two fingers outstretched. Dean's eyes flicker between the fingers and Castiel's determined but pained eyes. He finally shakes his head. "No. Save your strength."

Dean almost flinches back at the glare he receives. Almost. He sighs dramatically and gives in.

"Okay, okay. Don't get your panties in a bunch." Dean lowers his head and Castiel's clammy fingers press against him hard and he almost falls over at the whirling sensation in his head.

Dean's thoughts are a jumbled mess at the moment because Castiel is pushing things into his brain that don't belong there, but the angel can't seem to decide if he wants to use pictures or just tell him telepathically. Images flit across his eyes like a slideshow, sometimes broken by a stray thought.

_Demons. Cas is fighting demons. They circle around him, a mass of inky blackness and gleaming teeth, sneering and laughing._

_Stay._

_Behind Castiel a demon plunges a dagger into another demon's gut and rips it out, the weapon dripping with black blood. Castiel whips around and the demon slashes at Castiel's abdomen, bringing the angel down with a cry._

_Stay._

_The demons are still laughing as Castiel lies in a shuddering heap on the ground. _

_Nothing you can do. Rest._

_Castiel is kicked hard in the stomach and thrown through a window. He lands on his back and is hauled up to his feet. Castiel's form is limp in the demon's grip and his head lolls. Another demon sinks its hand into the gash made earlier, twisting it around and grinning maliciously. The angel's head snaps up and his mouth opens but he doesn't scream, just lets out a strangled gurgling noise. Blood pools in his mouth and spills onto the floor._

_Grace._

_The demon angles its arm up and delves deeper, almost to the elbow, still searching._

_Grace. Not safe. Not __**safe**__._

_Castiel starts glowing with a light so pure the demons shriek and the angel takes the opportunity to disappear in a flutter of wings, seeking Dean out on instinct. _

_Hurts. __**Stay.**_

Dean gulps in a breath and rears back, head swimming uncomfortably. Castiel's hand drops to the bed. The hunter's thoughts are racing. Demons ambushed Castiel for his grace? That could've killed him. Dean is suddenly beyond angry at the thought of Castiel dying without him even knowing about it. He kicks at his chair and curses.

"Son of bitch! Who the hell do they think they are?" Dean huffs like a raging bull and glowers at the wall, crossing his arms across his chest. Demon blood? That's what that black shit is? Dean wipes his hand across his face and groans before righting his chair and scooting up beside Castiel, who is now silently staring up at the ceiling, almost in a daze. He looks exhausted. And even though Castiel is smaller than Dean, his sheer presence always made up for it. That was missing now and Dean never thought he would see an angel of the Lord in this condition. All he can do is wait until Castiel works the demon blood out of system. The last thing he wants to be doing is sitting on his ass while the angel suffers but that looks like the only option.

Dean glances at his watch. It's almost four o' clock and he hasn't had any shut eye. The hunter yawns and blinks blearily, deciding that the bandage on Castiel's right arm needs to be changed. Before he can stand up Castiel's hand darts out like a snake and locks onto to Dean's wrist, effectively halting his movement. Castiel's entire body is shaking violently and the black veins weaving throughout his body are _pulsing _and suddenly Dean isn't so sure that the angel is winning this battle.

"Dean, _help me_, I –" Castiel chokes on his words and a light is bubbling up from the gash on his abdomen, glowing brighter by the second. He arches off the bed again, eyes and mouth wide open, streaks of light shining through them like beacons. His mouth snaps shut and he screws his eyes together, tightening his grip on Dean, who is going batshit insane at the light show in front of him.

Awful spasms overtake Castiel's body and he lets out a pitiful moan, light immediately pooling in his mouth again. Dean realizes that the feathered bastard is trying to _leave _his vessel. He's trying to leave _him. _Dean jumps to his feet and presses both hands against the angel's mouth in a desperate attempt to stop whatever is happening.

"You're not going anywhere, you son of a bitch!" Light begins to slip through his fingers and there's something wet sliding onto his hands _(is Cas crying?) _so Dean presses harder. "You just don't get to leave when the pain gets too bad! Fight it, Cas!"

Castiel's head is thrashing from side to side, casting streams of light all over the room and Dean knows this must look like some kind of weird alien shit from outside the motel. The light grows brighter and Dean is really starting to panic now, pressing impossibly tighter against Castiel as if he can just shove the light back to wherever the hell it's coming from.

"Cas, you have to keep fighting!" Dean is yelling over the wind that is suddenly whipping through the room, flinging papers and knocking pictures off the walls. "You can't leave me here, Cas!" Castiel is surrounded by light and tears are running freely from the corners of his tightly closed eyes, dripping down his face and onto Dean's hands, causing them to slip off and then there's a blinding light that swallows up the room and the last thing Dean sees before his vision goes completely white is Castiel sitting up with his head thrown back, light shooting out through his eyes and mouth and the shadow of his wings arched high above him.

Then there is silence.

Dean lowers his arm from his face after the laser show behind his eyelids stop and his eyes flutter open slowly to land on the still figure lying on the bed. Dean rushes to the angel's side and his hope is crushed immediately.

Castiel isn't breathing.

The angel is deathly still, his lips slightly parted and his hands lying limp at his sides, eyes wide open and seeing nothing. Dean swallows hard and touches Castiel's chest faintly, his throat closing up when he doesn't feel the once steady rising and falling motion. His hands shoot up to the side of Castiel's neck, but there is no pulse.

"No. No, no, no, no," Dean can deal with anger and rage, but this? This is grief, and it feels like he's _dying_. There's no way Cas can be gone, he can't be _dead._

_But he is. He's gone. Just like Sammy. Everyone leaves._

Dean sinks into the uncomfortable wooden chair and stares brokenly at his angel, lying cold and so still on the bloodstained bed. And Dean does something he hasn't done in years. He sinks to his knees beside the bed, places his elbows on the sheets, clasps his hands together and bows his head and he prays.

Sam finds him two hours later in that same position, entering the room and filling it with the smell of sex and blood and Dean looses it because none of that should be associated with _his _angel, dead or alive. He rages at Sam and throws a few punches before his brother finally heads for the door with his head down and his tail tucked between his legs, looking back at the dead angel on the bed with sorrowful eyes. Dean steps to the side, cutting Castiel out of Sam's view and the youngest Winchester shrinks into himself even more and finally leaves.

Dean watches as Sam disappears and realizes that he was wrong. The Sammy he knows is never coming back.


	3. Second chances

**I couldn't leave you all hanging like that. :)**

Dean doesn't know how long he's been standing there facing the door, and frankly he doesn't give a damn. His brother wasn't there when he needed him the most because he was too busy getting his fix from that demon bitch, and now Cas is dead. Dean continues to stare vacantly at the door for a few more minutes before he returns to his chair beside Castiel's bed. He reaches out and wipes his hand gently across the angel's eyelids because he can't stand to seeing them dull and lifeless when they used to shine with so much wisdom and faith.

"I'm sorry, Cas. I..." Dean trails off, dropping his gaze to his hands, still crusted with blood. He can still feel the wetness of Castiel's tears sliding over his skin and he clenches his hands into fists until his knuckles are white. Castiel was _crying. _Dean can't remember ever seeing the angel even come close to crying. He thought it was impossible. And he was wrong. Dean couldn't help his friend when he needed it most, when it meant everything. Castiel sought out Dean on instinct, knowing he would do everything he could. Castiel trusted him, and he failed. Now he's dead. Gone. All because of that damned demon blood. How much more can he possibly loose because of the blood? His family is screwed to hell because of it and he's never felt so alone. In Hell he had his screams to keep him company, he had his victim's screams. There's nothing here.

_Everyone leaves. It's not them, it's you._

"Cas…I'd say that I'm sorry again, but I know that won't cut it." Dean forces out a hollow laugh, dry and pained. "I fucked up, man. I really fucked up. Look at you. You've stuck by me through so much, and look where it got you." Dean scrubs a hand over his face and looks down at his lap. "I've never done right by you, Cas. I know I used to piss you off. Hell, I never showed you any respect, even though you did pull me out of the pit. I don't even think I thanked you properly. No wonder you wanted to leave."

What the hell kind of man is he? He gets rescued from Hell by an angel and he's been on his case ever since, constantly challenging him and pushing him because he could, and the angel let him. Castiel dove into the pit to save his sorry ass and he's been giving the angel hell ever since. Castiel is important to Dean, he really is, but Dean doesn't know what he's doing between Sam's demon blood problem and the freakin' apocalypse and Castiel was conveniently there all the time, wide eyed and trusting, and Dean couldn't help but vent his frustrations on him.

'Where are your angel buddies now?' he'd ask. 'Why can't you grow a pair and think for yourself?'

It occurs to Dean that maybe Castiel thought he didn't deserve any better.

But he pushes that thought aside because Castiel was an angel of the Lord; he didn't have self esteem issues.

Did he?

The motel room door creaking open drives Dean away from his thoughts and he doesn't need to turn around to know who it is.

"Get out." Dean's eyes never leave his lap.

Sam doesn't make a sound, but the door hasn't closed so Dean knows he's still there, burning a hole in his back with those damn puppy dog eyes.

"Dean, I –"

Dean snaps again, shooting out of his chair so fast that it knocks over and Sam flinches back, jaw clenched shut.

"No, Sam! You what? You're sorry? That's not going to cut it this time! You were gone and I needed you! Now Castiel…he's…" Dean shakes his head and falls quiet before he points at Sam's duffel bag, a grim finality in his eyes. Sam is already shaking his head but Dean's mind is made up. He can't take it anymore.

"Grab your shit and get the hell out."

Sam's still shaking his head, eyes growing brighter by the second. "Don't do this, Dean, please-"

Dean is across the room and has Sam pinned to the wall faster than any of them could blink. His eyes dig into Sam's, enough angst traveling between the two brothers to drown themselves in it. Sam can see a lot in Dean's stare, and he knows it will never be the same between them. He lowers his eyes and sets his jaw.

"I'm going," he says quietly.

Dean lets go of him and steps back, watching with cold eyes as his brother gathers his things. Once Sam heads for the door Dean returns to Castiel's side, picking his chair back up and sitting down stiffly. Sam's voice makes him go rigid in his seat.

"I'll...I guess I'll call you in a few days."

Dean doesn't say anything and he doesn't relax until the door shuts quietly behind Sam. Sighing wearily Dean digs the heels of his hands into his eyes.

"You should not be so hard on your brother. He truly is very sorry."

Dean responds to the familiar gruff voice as always, eyes still closed tightly in an attempt to ward off a killer headache. "Sorry my ass. I'm not finished with him yet." Right after the words leave his mouth Dean's eyes pop open and land on the now empty bed in front of him. He stands up slowly and turns around.

"Hello, Dean."

Castiel is standing in front of the door Sam walked out of only moments before, fully clothed and looking just as he did when Dean first laid eyes on him. Blue eyes glimmer with something that Dean identifies as affection and the hunter grabs Castiel and pulls him into a fierce hug, not giving a damn about chick flick moments or the fact that Castiel's arms are hanging awkwardly at his sides because he's _alive._

"Ah – Dean, I'm not fully healed yet and you're squeezing quite hard…"

Dean finally lets go and claps a hand on Castiel's shoulder, smiling so hard his face hurts.

"How? I thought…I thought you were…"

"Dead?" Castiel finishes. "I don't know what happened. I don't remember anything."

Dean cocks his head to the side and steps closer to Castiel. "Say what?"

"I don't recall anything of what has happened to me in the last few hours."

"Nothing?"

Castiel seems to be staring into space, but Dean knows that he's thinking hard about something. A small frown spreads slowly across his face and his eyes trail up to Dean.

"I remember an unrelenting pain. And you."

Dean doesn't know what to think right now because tonight has been hell in a basket for him and the only other being that had it worse than him almost died, and he doesn't even have the courtesy to remember all of it. But as Dean takes in Castiel's slightly ruffled appearance, he can't help but feel a little relieved that the angel doesn't remember the details. Castiel may be infinitely older than him, but Dean can't think of anyone else more in need of protection than this bright eyed holy tax accountant.

"You let a few demons get one over you, you big pansy. They shot you up with some demon blood. You were pretty bad off."

"How bad?"

"Your…your veins were black."

Castiel's head tilts in that annoyingly adorable way of his and his eyes bore holes into Dean's. "I should be dead right now. Demon blood is highly toxic to angels and that much of it should have killed me."

Dean offers a small smile. "But it didn't." Castiel beat the demon blood and came back to life. Dean can't help but feel a little surge of pride. He has one badass angel. A badass angel that still got his lily-white ass kicked for a while. "You really had me worried, Cas, with that freaky light display you had going on." Castiel's expression darkens a little at the comment and Dean wishes he would have kept his big mouth shut. He can swallow the damn Grand Canyon with that thing, he knows it.

"That was…my grace. What is left of it anyway." The last sentence is an afterthought, but the sorrow behind it is enough to grab Dean's attention. In the end he decides that now is not the time to be asking questions so he lets the angel continue.

"Demon blood enters the bloodstream and courses throughout the body, corrupting everything it comes in contact with. It is strong enough to force out and destroy an angel's grace completely. Strong enough to make us forget who we are. Eventually, we let go, and it kills us."

Castiel draws nearer to Dean, completely breaking his rule of personal space, trapping him with his unnerving and piercing stare. Dean feels like his soul is on display as he looks into the endless pools of blue fixated on him.

"I could hear everything you said, Dean, while it was happening. I was not trying to escape from the pain. I was trying to retain my grace so I could stay. In that condition my grace was no match for the blood. But you must know that I would never willingly leave you. And that I am not angry with your actions towards me. I have come to think of it as typical Dean-like behavior."

At this point Dean's brain has turned into mush because Castiel is suddenly alive again and he isn't even angry. But of course Dean can't accept that for what it is because – well, he's Dean. He supposes Castiel can file this under 'typical Dean-like behavior'.

"But…I was a dick to you! A complete asshole! You have every right to take off."

Castiel continues to stare silently at Dean before placing his hand on Dean's arm, covering the hand print burned there perfectly. Dean inhales sharply as he feels very comforting warmth welling up inside of him, all the way to the tip of head and down to his toes. It envelops him completely and it's all he can feel, instilling a strong sense of peace within him. The energy is calming and it feels so much like Cas that Dean has to smile. Suddenly all he wants to do is curl up and go to sleep.

"Can you feel it? That is a little of my own grace. I will always be with you, no matter where I may be. And I will always be here, fighting by your side. Petty words do not affect our bond. Don't ever forget that." Castiel's voice is so strong, so sure, and Dean can't help but believe him.

The angel steps back and Dean is staring at him with wide eyes, the warmth still spreading through his body. Castiel smiles faintly (his mouth doesn't move but Dean can tell from his eyes, and if that doesn't sound gay then he doesn't know what does), and the room doesn't seem all that dark anymore. Sensing that he is about to zap away, Dean flails his arms around comically for a minute in order to gain Castiel's attention, watching with satisfaction as the usual expression of confusion flickers across his angel's face.

"What is it, Dean?"

Dean clears his throat and then decides to stand there awkwardly, tongue tied and regretting that he had claimed the angel's attention without properly thinking about it first. No going back now…

"Well, I – uh – saw your wings earlier, and they didn't look too good…so I was wondering if, um, they're okay now." The hunter feels his cheeks burning and he forces a nonchalant grin at Castiel. "I don't want you zapping off and then crashing into some random building, you know."

Castiel seems surprised at Dean's question. For a moment he says nothing and the back of Dean's neck is growing hotter by the second, but then Castiel is smiling without really smiling and he's practically beaming at Dean. Dean gives a dopey-like grin in response.

"My wings are recovering nicely," Castiel says pleasantly, as if he is discussing the weather with an old friend. "It will simply take longer for me to travel, but I will be fine." He pauses, and adds distractedly, "Though, I am sorry that you had to see them in such a state. I feel a little embarrassed about it, actually. Maybe I will show them to you when they are healed completely." Not a second after the words leave his mouth Castiel suddenly frowns and looks at Dean as if he is the most fascinating creature he has seen in his entire existence. Which for all Dean knows, could be true.

"Although…I do not know how you were able to see them in the first place and not be blinded. Maybe it was because of my weakened state; they must not have been as they normally are. Perhaps I should not show you, just to be safe…" The angel trails off, a more pensive expression on his face.

Dean nods sluggishly, lulled by the lingering feeling of Castiel's grace swirling comfortably inside of him. Wow, he was _really _sleepy. The angel gazes knowingly at the hunter and steps toward him again.

"Rest, Dean. Remember what I told you." Castiel pauses again, seemingly having some kind of internal debate. He finally looks at Dean again and the Winchester is taken aback by the sincerity in Castiel's eyes.

"That small amount of my grace within you is the reason why I am still here. I did not loose sight of who I am and why I am here. I owe you my life, Dean. Thank you."

Castiel is gone in a flutter of wings, leaving Dean alone in the motel room. But as Dean reaches up to catch the one lone pristine white feather left behind, he realizes that he was wrong. He was never alone, and maybe Sammy isn't as lost as he thought. Maybe Dean can make things right again.

* * *

**I couldn't kill Cas off…he's adorable. :D**

**Well...the end. Thanks for reading! I couldn't have finished this without all of your support.**


	4. Fear of the unknown

**Okay, so it seems a bunch of you want me to keep going. And I don't like to let people down, plus I really like writing this, so I'll continue with it. I have no idea where this is going, but I suppose that's the fun part. Enjoy!**

* * *

The air is thick in the Impala, each Winchester silent and staring at the road in front of him. Dean hasn't turned on any music because he honestly can't stand to hear any kind of noise right now. He needs to think, and he is relieved to see that Sam seems to understand that at least. Sam has been better these last few days. He hasn't been sneaking out, he actually listened to Dean on the one hunt they've been on and he's been really nice to Castiel, who is still a little off, but fairing much better. All in all, Dean is really pleased with how things are going. At first the rift between him and his brother seemed like it could never be fixed, but now Dean thinks they might have a chance. They won't be what they were before, but Dean was willing to get pretty damn close.

Dean glances over at his brother to catch him staring intensely in front of him, still lost in thought. Dean looks at the road and then back at Sam again.

"Hey."

Sam twitches and turns his head to look at Dean, his floppy brown hair hanging in front of his face. Dean fights back a smile at the memories of teasing a gangly teenage version of his brother about his 'crappy emo boy hair'. Instead he reaches over and swipes his hand over the top of Sam's head, smirking when Sam jerks and swats back at Dean.

"Dude, you need a haircut. I've been telling you that for I don't know how long."

Sam stares at Dean for a moment, surprised that Dean is actually trying to have a conversation with him. Up until this point Dean had only spoken to him when necessary and other than that there was no communication between them. Sam can't blame him. He knows what he did was wrong, but he just wanted to save people, and Ruby was helping him do that. But if it came down to it, Sam has an idea of which side he'd choose.

Nothing is stronger than blood.

"And I've been telling you that you need to update your music, man. Cassette tapes? Seriously?"

Dean narrows his eyes and points a finger at Sam.

"Don't talk about my music. Your hair is up for discussion though, considering the fact that I'm with you pretty much all freaking day and you're cramping my style. Not cool, man."

Sam snorts and looks out the window. "Jerk."

"Bitch."

A little of the tension dissipates and both brothers have identical smirks on their faces as they continue on their way. Maybe they do have a chance.

Dean pulls into Bobby's place hours later and kills the engine, wiping the sweat off his forehead. It's fucking hot outside. Sam's already out the door and headed up to the house so Dean huffs and steps outside, groaning as the sun beats down on him relentlessly.

"Son of a bitch," he mumbles as he follows his brother.

Castiel is there and is sitting at the kitchen table, staring with his usual curious interest around the room, even though he's been in Bobby's house enough to know the general layout. As soon as Dean walks into the room the angel focuses on him, offering a small smile.

"Hello, Dean," he greets. "Sam." He nods at Sam, who looks down at the floor immediately and then back up at Castiel long enough to mumble a quiet hello. Castiel continues to stare at him and Sam makes up a quick excuse to leave the room, something about asking Bobby about a book. Dean watches this whole exchange with one eyebrow quirked, eyes trailing his brother as he awkwardly excuses himself. Castiel doesn't seem fazed; in fact, he has gone back to smiling at Dean. The eldest Winchester grins and pulls up a chair opposite the angel.

"Hey, Cas. How do you feel?"

"Better. Everything has returned to normal, except for my wings. A few more days and they will be fully recovered."

Dean smiles and leans back in his chair. "That's great, Cas."

They sit in a comfortable silence for a few minutes before Dean places his forearms on the table and leans in, eyes darting to the doorway to check for Sam and Bobby. After he is sure they won't be coming in, Dean fixes Castiel with a determined look.

"I'm going to find the bastards that did this to you and I'm gonna kill them. Every last one of them."

Castiel simply stares at Dean, an unreadable expression on his face. His next words are slow and controlled.

"No, Dean. Before they could reach my grace I unveiled a piece of my true form to the demons and they perished. That's when I came to you. There are no more for you to kill."

Even though Castiel keeps a blank face while telling Dean this, the hunter still feels like he isn't telling everything. Dean scratches behind his ear and leans back in his chair again, crossing his arms over his chest. Castiel watches his movement with an unwavering gaze. The two stare at each other. Finally, Dean chuckles softly and shakes his head.

"Cas."

"Yes, Dean?" Castiel's eyes are suddenly the bluest thing Dean has ever seen in his life, innocence rolling off of the angel in waves.

"Don't try that innocent angel crap with me. I know you're not telling me something. Spit it out or I'll go and figure it out myself."

The innocence drops flat immediately and Castiel suddenly seems colder, a hard edge slipping over his form. Dean isn't sure how to respond, so he tries to control the nervous energy budding in his chest. The next time Dean blinks he and Castiel are standing and the table separating them is gone, along with their chairs. Dean blinks again in stunned confusion and then Castiel is standing in front of him. The angel steps forward and Dean backpedals until his back is flush against the wall, never breaking eye contact with Castiel.

"You will do no such thing."

Dean swallows thickly at the angel's words, the '_don't fuck with me' _tone enough to render him silent.

"Listen to me, Dean Winchester. You will _not_ pursue this issue any longer and I don't want you to bring it up again. Do you understand? " The angel seems to be brimming with power; Dean can feel it in the air, crackling like lightning. He knows Castiel has been cut off from Heaven, but the energy he can feel in the air is palpable and he has to wonder if the angel has some kind of reserve somewhere locked tight. Dean doesn't want to admit it, but he's honestly a little unsettled at the open display of power from the normally reserved angel. But Dean knows when to back down, and this is definitely one argument he doesn't want to get into. So he nods carefully and Castiel seems to relax a little, still staring at Dean with calculating eyes. Then in a rush of air and wings, he's gone.

Dean stays where he is, pressed against the wall. He lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding and notices that the table and chairs are back. When Sam and Bobby enter the kitchen with a pile of books Dean mumbles an excuse about needing to take a piss and steps quickly away, Sam watching his departure with an eyebrow quirked in question. The young Winchester shrugs and turns to Bobby.

"Okay, so these signs you called us about…"

Inside the bathroom, Dean splashes cool water on his face and braces the counter with both hands, peering at his reflection. The confrontation with Castiel is the only thing he can think about. He had approached the angel with good intentions; after all, Dean thought he had lost one of his closest friends and he really wanted to show Castiel how much he was worth to Dean. What better way than to gank the sons of bitches that hurt him in the first place? Dean expected some kind of reaction, but certainly not _that. _Castiel was pissed, though Dean could figure out that it wasn't at him specifically. What had him so worried?

Dean frowns and towels his face dry, deciding to go out and spend some time with his favorite girl.

It's still blazing outside as Dean washes the Impala. He got rid of his shirt as soon as he stepped outside but it barely affected the heat he was feeling. Wiping an arm across his brow Dean pauses, panting slightly. Something doesn't seem right. The hunter looks all around, gaze narrowing slightly. He doesn't see anything that poses a threat, just the old carcasses of rusty cars. Soon he returns to washing his car, one eye peeled for anything suspicious.

He doesn't have enough time to work through what happens next.

There's a reflection that appears on the window of the Impala in the shape of a man with his head down, eyes downcast with his arms crossing in front of his chest, seemingly in prayer. Dean swivels around in time to see Castiel appear, cutting the man out of Dean's sight. A second later Castiel turns to Dean and the hunter peeks over the angel's shoulder to find the man gone. Confused green eyes meet bright blue and the two regard each other silently. Until of course, Dean opens his mouth.

"What the hell was that? _Who _hell was that?"

Castiel turns away. "No one of your concern," he replies neutrally. Dean grinds his teeth together and pushes the angel's shoulder, turning him so that they are face to face.

"Cas, tell me what's going on."

Castiel says nothing, cutting his eyes to the side instead. Dean sets his jaw.

"Fine. Fine, then. Just keep doing whatever the hell you've been doing, 'cause I don't really give a damn right now." Dean brushes past the angel and heads for the house, annoyed scowl in place.

"Dean, wait."

Dean keeps walking. This doesn't do any good because Castiel appears in front of Dean not a second later.

"Wait."

Dean throws his hands up in exasperation. One minute the angel is all smiles and innocence and the next he's secretive and downright intimidating. Dean can't keep up. He watches as Castiel looks away for a moment, most likely choosing his words very carefully.

"There are things that are happening, things that I don't think wise to tell you. Do you trust me, Dean?" Dean nods without hesitation and Castiel continues, "Then trust that I will reveal everything to you when it is needed. If it is needed. Until then, please don't do anything reckless."

The angel stares imploringly at Dean, a quiet desperation making itself clear to the hunter.

"Uh, yeah. Sure thing, Cas."

Castiel blinks out of existence and a heavy feeling settles over Dean, finally figuring out what's up with the angel's strange behavior. Castiel is afraid. Afraid for Dean.

On the very tip of a mountain peak in the middle of a snowstorm, Castiel glares up at the darkening sky, trench coat billowing out around him.

"Stay away from him! You hear me? Come anywhere near him again and I'll kill you myself!"

Castiel's true voice rolls throughout the mountains like thunder, alerting every creature who resides there of his fury.

* * *

**How was it? Good? Bad? Please review! It might make me write faster. :)**


	5. Rapture

Sam shivers as the warm liquid slides like melted butter down his throat, leaving a buzzing trail of energy that pools down in his stomach. His senses are sharper, like everything up to this point, this truly _magnificent_ point, had been in black and white. Now colors seem to burst in front of his eyes like fireworks. Sounds are magnified; he can hear them distinctly and like he never has before. Everything is just so much better and he loves it. He loves the feel of liquid power coursing through his veins, loves the idea of finally being able to get back at demons, (the evil sons of bitches have nothing on him) and most of all, he loves the idea of doing what Dean can't.

He lifts his head from Ruby's arm and rolls over onto his back, sated and buzzing with energy. Ruby smiles sinfully at him and Sam smiles back.

Nothing is stronger than blood.

* * *

Dean is dreaming. Except this dream isn't like the others, because there is nothing here. Nothing at all. There is no light, only a darkness so deep and desolate Dean can't help but loose himself in the void. He doesn't know where he ends or where the empty space begins.

Maybe they go on forever.

This…_nothingness _makes Dean ache somewhere deep down within himself. It seeps inside the pores in his skin and through his bones, dragging him down deeper and deeper until he's falling. His mouth his open but _nothing _is coming out and so he continues his descent silently, screaming inside of his head because there is nothing here to listen to him. And as he falls he becomes aware of a light below him that grows brighter and brighter. He's falling faster now, and the light keeps getting impossibly brighter until he has to close his eyes and it's so unbelievably _hot _as he hurtles toward the light. The light is overwhelming, even when his eyes are squeezed shut tightly. He feels as if he is on fire, like there's molten lava running though every vein in his body and suddenly there's sound, voices, chanting and singing with so much power his entire body vibrates with the force of them. At first he can't determine what the voices are saying so fervently because he's falling faster and the heat is unbearable, but as the light continues to glow brighter with each second the voices triple in volume and he feels as if his eardrums will burst with the endless and never tiring chants of: "_Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God Almighty, who was, who is, and who is coming."_

Dean bolts up from the bed, sweating and panting harshly. His clothes are soaked with sweat and his heart beats impossibly fast against his ribcage. Immediately his head turns to glance at Sam's bed. The other Winchester is sleeping, snoring lightly. Dean swallows and forces himself to calm down, breathing in sharply through his nose and exhaling through his mouth. Once he regains control of his breathing Dean swings his legs over the bed and hunches over, rubbing his face in exhaustion. He's not even going to think about that weird dream he had. After shuffling to the bathroom he wets a rag and plants it on his face, waking himself up a bit. When he lowers it and looks up to the mirror he jumps back in surprised horror at the reflection of two blazing gold eyes that take up the entire surface. They stare back at him with a highly concentrated intensity, an inferno burning within them. The hunter bumps back into the wall with a small shout and Sam is in there not long after, looking from his badly spooked older brother to the charred black hole where the mirror used to be.

"I'll call Cas," he says quietly.

Sam had to leave Castiel a voice mail. He got Dean settled onto his bed, noticing that his brother was strangely silent. Knowing that it wouldn't do anything good to push it, Sam got situated at the table with his laptop. They were in the middle of investigating the signs they were looking at with Bobby, but this new development was too big to ignore. Sam watches as Dean bounces one leg rapidly as he glares a hole into the hideous yellow carpet.

"Dude, relax. I'm sure Cas will know what to do."

Dean doesn't say anything. He can't shake the image of those eyes. They were nothing like he'd ever seen before, burning with something strong, something stronger than anything Dean has encountered.

"Sam." Dean's voice is strangely subdued and it captures Sam's full attention quickly. "We'd better hope this thing is on our side. For all of our sakes."

Sam tightens his jaw and begins to click furiously at his laptop, desperate to ignore his brother, who has become silent once again.

* * *

Castiel flies with unparalleled speed, reaching higher and higher until he breaks through clouds, fanning out his wings and floating in midair for a split second before tipping forward and diving back down, evening out as he hurtles himself through countries faster than the human eye can blink. His wings have healed and he's _free. _The feeling of flying is incomparable to him. His wings are the only thing not sullied by his disobedience. His grace is depleting, slowly but surely, and soon that will be gone, which in turn means he will loose his wings. The thought saddens him immensely and he drops lower, skimming one wingtip against the cool surface of the Pacific Ocean. The joy of flying is something Castiel holds dear to him, but he will give it up if it means helping Dean. Anything for Dean.

Castiel darts straight up again, climbing high and relishing in the weightless feeling, unrestrained joy echoing within his being. Then something crashes into him with the force of a freight train, knocking him out of the sky like a felled fowl and sending him hurtling down towards an empty field in Peru. Castiel spirals out of control, his wings flapping uselessly as he tries desperately to right himself. Before he hits the ground something catches him by the scruff of his neck and he is carefully lowered down to his feet on the grass. Castiel simply stands there for a moment, wind swept and breathing heavily. His wings ruffle in agitation and he folds them back inside his vessel before turning around, expression tight. At the being before him Castiel frowns deeply and narrows his eyes, tensing up immediately.

"Hello, Castiel. I tried to make contact with your human friend earlier, but it seems I have a lot to learn about humans and what they call 'sleep'. It is all so fascinating, don't you think?"

Something resembling a growl escapes Castiel's throat and he balls his hands into fists, glaring heatedly at the figure standing about five feet in front of him.

"I told you that I'd kill you if you ever came near him again, Seraphiel."

The angel known as Seraphiel smiles faintly, his glittering golden eyes focused completely on Castiel. He holds his hands up, palms out, dipping his head a little, though his scorching gaze never leaves Castiel's.

"Peace, little one. I have not come to harm your human." He begins to circle slowly around Castiel, openly gazing at his body and deeper, deep enough to see his grace flickering in a tight orb locked within his center. "And I would certainly kill you before you could even hope to kill me." Seraphiel stops in front of his brother, tilting his head slightly and observing the wide blue eyes locked on his own.

"Your vessel suits you, Castiel." Seraphiel falls silent, and both angels stare at each other with tilted heads and curious eyes.

Castiel has to admit that Seraphiel's vessel suits him also. He is tall, at least Sam's height, and his skin is lightly tanned, seeming to glow in the sunlight. His arms are well toned, the cords of muscle visible as he is only wearing a simple wife beater and dark jeans that remind Castiel of Dean. He has a strongly defined jaw and deep set eyes, giving off a serious and focused air about him. His hair is short and dark, spiking up in different directions with strands flowing in front of his face as the wind blows. The most striking thing about him, the one thing he can't get rid of because of what he is, is his eye color. His eyes are a fierce gold with flecks of red and orange, as if he is housing a howling inferno inside of him. They are a stark contrast to Castiel's deep blue.

"I see you have recovered from your injuries," Seraphiel states, his voice solid and deeply resonant. It commands Castiel's attention, even if he doesn't care to speak with the other angel. "It brings me joy to see you that you are well."

Castiel continues to stare at Seraphiel, his confusion evident. Seraphiel chuckles quietly and folds his arms across his chest. "You are an extremely faithful angel, Castiel. Faith is a quality that is fading, and that is why I helped revive you."

Castiel's eyes widen and his lips part at the information, realization dawning on him.

"That…was you? You're the one who helped me? Why? What do you want with me? How –"

"Silence, brother."

The words ring with a commanding authority and Castiel quiets immediately. Seraphiel waits a moment before continuing.

"As I said before, faith is fading. Heaven has not been well as of late. There is confusion over orders and our brothers and sisters are turning against one another. The strife is ceaseless. Gabriel has abandoned us and Michael is…occupied. So much has changed." He looks away from Castiel for the first time since their encounter and the younger angel relaxes somewhat. Seraphiel is frowning slightly, a troubled expression marring his features. "There is something evil afoot, Castiel. That is why I have come among humanity and that is why I purified you of the demon blood." Seraphiel steps closer to Castiel and pins the other angel with his stare, his eyes smoldering into the blue depths. Castiel can feel the heat radiating off his brother's body like a furnace.

"I need your help, Castiel. Father is absent and so the angels have stopped singing. They refuse to sing with me." Seraphiel's gaze drops and clouds over in what Castiel has come to believe as despair. "There is no one to praise, no one for me to teach in song, therefore I am lost. Brother, please, you must help me."

Castiel studies Seraphiel carefully, unsure of how much of his trust he is willing to give. Seraphiel is powerful enough to kill him without any effort whatsoever. But he did save Castiel's life, and for that he is grateful. The least he can do is hear him out.

"Fine. What do you wish for me to do?"

Seraphiel's eyes widen in surprise, not expecting for Castiel to actually agree so quickly. He and Castiel aren't exactly close; Seraphiel had only taken an interest in his younger brother when news of his banishment reached him. Up until that point Castiel had been brimming with faith and love for their Father, so Seraphiel was immediately interested in his cause for such a change. He never expected it to be for Dean Winchester.

Seraphiel scratches the back of his neck and runs a hand slowly though his hair, ruffling it even more.

"Well…I have no desire to return home, and I don't know enough about humans to blend in with them, so I was merely wondering if I could accompany you." His eyes burn into Castiel's while he waits patiently for an answer.

Castiel doesn't know what the hell to think. Seraphiel shows up out of the blue, asking if he can tag along with their little dysfunctional group right after he reveals the fact that he actually liked him enough to revive him. Castiel's thoughts are jumbled, to say the least. Saying yes could put Dean in danger, but saying no could really piss Seraphiel off and Castiel is sure he would not hesitate to burn him alive. But then why save him? Maybe there _was_ something going on. Having an angel as powerful and in such a high rank as Seraphiel could definitely help them. If he really wanted to cause any harm he would have done so already. So Castiel nods his head once and Seraphiel smiles briefly before reaching out and touching his hand to Castiel's chest. Castiel tries flinch away quickly but finds that he can't move. A streak of panic cuts through him like lightning and his eyes widen, heartbeat increasing rapidly. Seraphiel smiles at him again reassuringly.

"Calm yourself. I have a gift for you."

The hand on Castiel's chest warms slightly and he gasps softly at the tendrils of warmth spreading over his body, too shocked to speak.

Seraphiel is giving his grace back.

* * *

**Woo! I'm really getting into this. Who's excited for the new episode tonight? I know I am! :D**


	6. Black cloud

**I'm loving the feedback! You're all awesome!**

* * *

It's like being in a desert for years, caught in a state of constant dehydration, and then suddenly there's the coolest and most thirst quenching water slipping down your throat. Castiel inhales sharply at the familiar warmth coursing through him, eyes fluttering closed as he soaks in the blissful feeling emanating from Seraphiel's hand. Some small part of him in the back of his mind is screaming at him, telling him that it's a trick and that he should high-tail it out of here. But it's a small part, a _really _small part, and the rest of him is practically weeping with joy because he's getting his grace back and it feels so _good_.

"I assume you like my gift."

Castiel opens his eyes and looks into the golden orbs locked onto his.

"And I'll give you all of it back, and more."

The warning bells are ringing louder now, and Castiel knows he has been ensnared in a trap.

"All you have to do is get Dean to -"

"No."

Castiel's answer is immediate. Seraphiel frowns and the grace that was once flowing so smoothly from brother to brother cuts off abruptly, leaving Castiel feeling colder than he can ever remember. The two angels simply look at each other before Seraphiel drops his hand and takes one step back, a perplexed expression on his face.

"You care more about that…_human _than our family?"

Castiel observes Seraphiel's clenching fists and the steadily rising temperature around them, wisely choosing to stay silent.

"What about us? We are your family, not _them. _How could you choose them over us?"

Castiel shakes his head once and meets Seraphiel's fiery gaze with his own determined stare.

"A family? You call what we are family? I've learned firsthand from the Winchesters about what a family is, and we don't even come close. Those boys have sacrificed themselves over and over again for each other without a second thought and what are we doing? We're _killing _each other. Tell me, how is that worth defending?"

Flames erupt from the ground, climbing high and surrounding the two angels inside a circle of heat. Castiel's doesn't flinch, but he becomes wary as Seraphiel steps closer to him, the temperature still rising drastically.

"It's worth everything! You can't stand there and tell me that you're not affected by being separated from us! You're willing to give up everything that makes you an angel for them? What about Father? Does he mean that little to you now?" Seraphiel's voice rings out clearly over the sound of the crackling flames.

Castiel ignores the sweat rolling down his body and the small part of him still screaming to _get the hell away and fast _as he steps right up to Seraphiel, the determination returning as he glares at his brother.

"Don't you ever insinuate that I don't care about our Father. I still love him with everything I am and that will never change. And I will always love my brethren, no matter what side I choose in this war. You are my brother and that will never change. But one lesson I have learned from my time with humans is that family does not end with blood. You must understand this, Seraphiel. Father does not want us to fight each other."

The flames die down and flicker before disappearing completely, and with them leave the last of Seraphiel's anger. He unclenches his fists and sighs softly, looking away at the scorched ground surrounding them.

"I just want this to be over. I want my family back."

Neither angel speaks for a while. Finally Seraphiel looks back at Castiel and the normal intensity has returned in his eyes. He reaches out his hand again, stopping a few inches from Castiel's chest. The same panic from before returns to Castiel, but after a few moments where Seraphiel doesn't continue, Castiel realizes that he's waiting for permission. He nods reluctantly and closes his eyes, unsure of what to expect. A warm hand lands on his chest and he is shocked when more grace is poured into him. Castiel looks at Seraphiel in confusion, surprised at the smile directed at him.

"You deserve this. Most angels would not have lasted this long with the path you have chosen. I would not have, and for that I admire you. I am honored to have you as a brother."

Castiel cocks his head when Seraphiel removes his hand. He can feel his grace pulsing in his body, stronger than ever. He feels whole again, and he itches to take to the air. Seraphiel places one hand on his shoulder to stop him.

"I want you to take me to Dean."

Castiel stills and he knows he has to choose his words carefully.

"I do not think that would be wise," he says slowly, trying to appear as respectful as possible. Seraphiel did just give him his grace back, and he can take it all away just as easily. Seraphiel drops his hands, eyes never leaving Castiel's.

"You misunderstand me. I was not asking."

Dean takes a sip of his beer as he keeps a watchful eye on his brother, who is lying on his bed while staring up at the ceiling. His left foot has been moving back and forth for ten minutes straight. He's been a fidgety ever since he called Castiel. Speaking of the angel, where the hell is he? He always answers his phone, and on the off chance he doesn't he shows up as soon as possible when they leave him a message. What has him so tied up? It can't be more important than the man with the freaky gold eyes that's stalking him.

The same eyes that are inches away from his own right now.

Both of the Winchesters shout in surprise and Dean stumbles back into the wall, eyes darting to Sam, who is just as startled and confused as he is. All of their guns are in parts on the table, polished and totally useless. Dean looks at the stranger in front of him, noticing how _tall _he is. He has to be at least Sam's height, if not taller. And they way he's looking at Dean puts both hunters on edge.

Castiel suddenly appears beside the intruder, looking irate.

"I told you to let me talk to them first," he says, glancing apologetically at Dean. Sam moves to stand beside his brother, eying the two angels warily. "This is Seraphiel. He…wanted to meet you."

Dean scowls and points a finger at Seraphiel. "You are a dick," he says in a matter of fact tone. Sam's jaw drops and he elbows Dean hard in his side. "What? He is! What's with the stalker thing, huh? I know I'm desirable and all, but damn, you could at least warn a guy." Dean gives a tight lipped smile and Sam knows he's trying not to show how freaked out he is. Sam gives him points for trying.

Seraphiel hasn't said a word, just keeps staring at Dean with those goddamn _eyes_, looking at him as if he's some kind of interesting insect under a microscope. The older Winchester can't help the uneasy feeling building up inside of him and he swallows nervously, wondering why Castiel's brothers are all so creepy. Then Seraphiel tilts his head in the exact way Castiel does and Dean inwardly groans. Not another one.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Dean Winchester." His gaze moves to Sam, who shifts a little closer to Dean. "Samuel." Sam nods jerkily and stupidly sticks out his hand.

No one in the room moves. The angel looks at Sam's hand, then back the hunter, head still tilted.

"Um…you're supposed to shake it. It's how we greet each other." Sam offers a small, twitchy smile.

Dean wants to kick him in the balls.

Castiel watches the scene with interest, unsure of why Sam would think Seraphiel cares about human greetings. But to everyone's surprise, Seraphiel lifts his arm and grasps Sam's hand firmly. Sam's eyes widen and he yelps suddenly, tearing his hand away and scrambling off to the side, waving his now red hand in the air. As Sam runs into the bathroom Dean glares at Seraphiel, who looks baffled.

"Why'd you do that? You really are a dick!" He turns to Castiel. "Your brothers are all dicks, Cas!"

Castiel throws Dean a stern stare and the hunter turns away, grumbling. "I'm going to check on Sam." Once he leaves Castiel turns to Seraphiel.

"You must lower you vessel's body temperature. Humans do not produce as much heat as you do."

Seraphiel looks thoughtfully at Castiel.

"I do not know if I like having a vessel, brother. It is very…annoying. And my wings are cramped."

Castiel nods. "Yes, the cramping is uncomfortable. But there are good things about taking a vessel also."

"Really? What things?"

Castiel's brows furrow together.

"I will make sure to tell you when I think of something."

Seraphiel nods and the two angels turn towards the bathroom door, listening intently at the raised voices inside.

"Dean, stop – ow! Don't touch it!"

"Chill out, Samantha! It's just a damn burn, let me see –"

Something shatters and a string of curses follow.

"Are they all like that?" Seraphiel asks.

Castiel sighs heavily.

"No. I suppose I'm just lucky."

* * *

Dean leans against the refrigerator, staring at Seraphiel with narrowed eyes. The angel is sitting on the edge of Sam's bed, looking around at the items in the room, closely inspecting each object his eyes land on. He stares the longest at the guns lying on the table. The intent gleam never leaves his gaze and Dean doesn't get how he can stay so focused all the time. It isn't natural, and it sets Dean on edge.

"I don't trust you at all," the hunter says.

Seraphiel turns to look at Dean.

"I do not need or want your trust. I am here because I require Castiel's help."

A thought from earlier enters Dean's mind and he turns to open the fridge for a beer.

"Hey, Cas looks a little…different. Do you know why?" Dean tries to ask the question as casually as possible. He takes a swig of the beer.

"I restored his grace."

Dean chokes and spits out a massive cloud of alcohol.

"You what?! You can do that?" Dean stares disbelievingly at Seraphiel, who doesn't even blink at his outburst. The angel nods.

"Well…damn. That's great. Uh…" Dean taps one finger against the neck of the beer bottle. Clearing his throat a little, he scratches at the top of his head. "Thanks for that. He…really needed it." Castiel hardly ever brought it up, but Dean could tell how his banishment from Heaven was affecting him. His powers were dwindling steadily; wounds took longer to heal, killing demons took more effort, and Dean was sure he missed his family. Dean is glad he has his mojo back, and he can't help but feel a tiny bit of gratitude to Seraphiel for helping him.

But that doesn't change the fact that he doesn't like the creepy bastard.

"I still don't trust you."

Seraphiel says nothing. Then his face hardens and Dean is momentarily startled at the fierce expression taking over the angel's face. The next time Dean blinks he is gone. Dean looks around the room and back to where Seraphiel had been sitting seconds before. What the hell.

Dean shrugs and moves to his bed and stretches out, intent on napping until Sam gets back.

Sam parks the Impala on the side of an abandoned building out of sight of any wandering eyes. After he checks to make sure no one is around Sam pulls out a flask and tips it over, spilling some of the red liquid on the skin between his thumb and pointer finger. He brings up his hand and licks the spot clean. It's cold, but it's better than nothing. He felt as if he was going to explode back at the motel if he didn't get a quick fix. And then that goddamn angel shows up out of nowhere. Just what he needs. Sam scowls and pours more of the blood onto his hand and sucks it off, unaware of the blazing eyes staring at him from a window in that abandoned building. Blue eyes appear beside them, narrowed and bright.

"He must be stopped, Castiel." Seraphiel's voice is grave, because nothing but pain and death awaits the Winchester if he continues on this path.

Castiel closes his eyes briefly and sighs. He turns his head away from the sight of Sam, clear on what he has to do and not liking it at all.

"I know."

Castiel departs with a mighty gust of winds and appears in Dean's motel room silently. The angel simply stands there, observing Dean as he sleeps. It's obvious he's having another nightmare, most likely about his time in Hell. A thin sheen of sweat coats the visible parts of his body and a desperate sound leaves his throat, making a highly uncomfortable and sharp feeling well up within Castiel. He doesn't know what the feeling is, but he doesn't like it. Dean is mumbling incoherently now, quick and breathless. Castiel steps closer and manages to catch his name leaving Dean's lips. The angel frowns and realizes that he himself is the subject of Dean's nightmare, most likely when he had 'died'. Castiel reaches out and touches Dean's forehead gently and the hunter stills, relaxing back into the sheets with a soft sigh. Castiel sits on the very edge of Sam's bed, eyes never leaving Dean as he waits for the hunter to wake up.

They need to talk about Sam.

* * *

**I really wasn't feeling this chapter for some reason. It was just weird for me. I'll get the next chapter up as soon as I can. =)**


	7. Detroit

**I am consistantly amazed by the amount of responses I get from this story. If I could I would bake you all cookies.**

* * *

Dean awakens slowly to find Castiel sitting across from him, staring intensely into space. His posture is rigid and Dean can only wonder what the angel is thinking so hard about. A few more moments pass where Castiel is doing a pretty good impression of a space cadet and Dean clears his throat, sitting up against the headboard. Castiel snaps out of his thoughts and focuses on Dean, his lips turned down slightly. Dean quickly picks up on the somber mood of the angel and resolves to keep his wisecracks down to a minimum.

"Did you sleep well, Dean?"

Dean grunts. "Sure. Where the hell is Sam? I want my food." He really wants a burger.

Castiel pauses and his hands clench slightly from their place on top of his thighs. "That is what I want to talk to you about." His voice gets that tone to it, the tone that usually comes before bad news. Dean has heard that enough to pick it out from the angel's usually careful and controlled voice.

Dean sits up straighter, turning to Castiel and swinging his legs down to the floor.

"Is something wrong? Is he hurt?"

Castiel hears the panic in his voice and sees it in his eyes; he sees how much the other man cares for his brother and the sharp, uncomfortable feeling from before returns. How can Sam do this to his brother when he cares so much for him?

Castiel shakes his head once. "No. He is…fine."

Dean slumps a little in relief. "Okay. Good. Then what is it?"

Castiel hesitates, unsure of how to proceed. Dean's eyes narrow and he stares hard at the angel, a feeling of apprehension creeping slowly through him. "What is it, Cas?" he asks sharply.

"Sam is…he has not been truthful to you," Castiel begins, his voice slow and measured. "I am sorry to tell you this." He watches as Dean's expression hardens before smoothing away into a blank stare, readying himself for whatever is going to be said. "Sam is still using the demon blood. He never stopped."

The room is deathly silent. Dean is completely still, staring at Castiel with a blank expression. He doesn't say anything for a while. Then he shakes his head, tearing his gaze away from Castiel's.

"Bullshit. He told me he stopped, he _told _me, he –"

"He lied to you, Dean." Castiel's voice is firm and it pains him, it really does because he knows that Dean doesn't deserve this, not any of it. The hunter shakes his head again and glares at Castiel, and the angel can't think about anything else but how utterly _wrong _this is.

"You're _lying. _I know him – I know Sam, he wouldn't…" Dean cuts himself off, still glaring heatedly at Castiel, still desperately clinging to the hope of getting his little brother back. "You're lying. Please tell me you're lying, Cas."

Castiel looks into Dean's eyes, hating that he has to crush what little hope Dean has held onto for this long.

"I'm not saying this with the intention of hurting you, Dean. I'm sorry, but it's true."

Dean's face crumbles into an expression of raw anguish and Castiel looks away, unwilling to witness that type of pain on someone he has come to care deeply for. "I'm sorry," the angel says again, even though he knows it will do no good. The damage has been done. "But he must be stopped, Dean. Before –"

"Shut up, Cas! Just..._stop._" Dean's voice cracks horribly and he snaps his mouth shut, running his hands up the sides of his thighs. Castiel quiets and observes the open devastation on Dean's face, knowing that the hunter is blaming himself for all of this because that is how he was raised. It was always his job to look after Sam, his responsibility to make sure Sam was okay. It was his father's dying wish and in Dean's mind, he's failed. But he can't give up, not now. Castiel looks at the weary and broken down hunter and vows to never let Dean give up because he just _can't. _What good would Castiel be if he allows Dean to just fizzle out and fade away? What would be the point in following a hopeless and faithless hunter in a half assed attempt at saving the world? Dean's stubborn faith in the belief that they could actually win this war is the only thing Castiel has been clinging to. He can't let Dean give in because it would only be a matter of time before he does too. So he places his hand on Dean's knee and looks deep into bright green eyes, trying to convey what can't be said in words.

"Dean." The angel's voice is soft yet backed with a fierce determination and Dean can't help but lift his head up a fraction of an inch. "It will be alright. You must not blame yourself. We will fix this. Have faith."

The rumble of the Impala breaks the silence and Dean pales a little, dreading the idea of seeing his brother so quickly. He looks at Castiel desperately. The angel's jaw clenches and he glances quickly at the door before he grabs a piece of paper and a pencil from the tiny desk between the beds. He scribbles a note and then touches Dean's forehead.

Dean and Castiel are sitting side by side on an ocean dock, the setting sun painting the water with beautiful shades of red and orange. Their feet dangle inches above the water, a slightly warm breeze flowing throughout the cool ocean air. There is no one around, only the sounds of the waves. It's peaceful, and Dean is immensely grateful. He turns to Castiel.

"Where are we?"

"That does not matter."

Dean shrugs and turns back to the ocean. "Thanks, Cas. I just…can't look at him. Not now." He drums his fingers against his knees and looks back at the rippling expanse of water before him, briefly entertaining the idea of just jumping in and swimming until he became a black dot in the distance. If only things were that easy. Dean kicks his feet back and forth, a strange impulse of suddenly needing conversation washing through him. "Tell me about your freak brother. What's his deal?"

Castiel chuckles softly, leaning back on his hands and staring straight at the sun. His eyes don't water as he gazes steadily at the fiery orb and Dean suddenly wishes he could do that.

"He can't help some of his mannerisms. God created him to be like that."

Dean snorts. "What, like a creepy stalker? Yeah, that's father of the year for you right there."

Castiel doesn't react, only lowers his eyes back across the ocean.

"Seraphiel was created for the sole purpose of loving God. He leads the other angels in The Host in praise of Him. He is of high rank because he is in the direct presence of God. There are other angels like Seraphiel, though they no longer perform their duties. Lucifer, for instance."

A surprised sound drags itself up from Dean's throat and he looks at Castiel incredulously.

"Lucifer? Seriously?"

Castiel nods. "He was the most radiant. All of them are beings of the purest light, but Lucifer outshone them by far. When he fell a rift was created between him and Michael. Seraphiel was devastated, and he took over in leading the angels in praise. It is all he can do. All he knows how to do. And now that is lost."

Dean starts to kick his feet again, staring thoughtfully at the shimmering water.

"So…that's all he does? Praise God?"

"Yes."

"He hasn't stopped once? Not for a second?"

"No. Why would he want to?"

Dean makes a gesture with his hands as if the answer should be obvious. "Doesn't he get tired of it?"

Castiel's mouth starts to form into a slight frown and he looks at Dean as if he doesn't understand the question.

_Silly humans. _

"Of course not. Seraphiel is a different type of angel. He was made to ceaselessly praise our Father and to love Him with all that he is. He is literally aflame with love for God."

"So has he actually seen God if he's around Him all the time?"

"No. His wings cover his eyes," Castiel says simply, as if the answer should have been obvious to Dean.

The hunter's brows furrow in confusion. "I thought angels only have two wings?"

"Most of us do."

The angel says no more and the two fall into a comfortable silence. Dean tries not to think about his slipping grip on his brother and Castiel retreats into his thoughts on the evil that Seraphiel spoke of.

* * *

A little girl with caramel skin and doe-like eyes walks down the sidewalk cheerily, humming a song softly under her breath. She is walking home from school, her thoughts on the cookies her mother had promised to bake later that evening. Behind her, the school bus she had just departed from starts up again. It pulls forward suddenly in a burst of speed, tires screeching against asphalt. The little girl doesn't have the time to turn around before the bus slams into her, sending her body careening into the air, already broken and bleeding. She lands in the middle of the road behind the bus and the vehicle stops and backs up, bumping over the girl's body with a sickening crunch before pulling forward again, crushing the lifeless corpse flat as a pancake as it continues on its route.

Three blocks over in a grocery store a woman in her late forties grips her keys tightly in her hand. She eyes the man in front of her paying for his food, a frown pulling across her features. Then she raises her keys high and brings them down on the man's neck with as much force as she can muster, stabbing through skin and muscle, crimson liquid gushing out and coating the woman's face red.

Two states away, a teenager pushes her friend off of a bridge. She laughs as her friend's scream fades into the sound of the rushing water below.

An eight year old boy ties his dog against a tree and shoots it repeatedly with a bb gun.

A grandmother stabs the sleeping infant in her arms with a knitting needle.

Seraphiel sees all of this and bows his head, murmuring a prayer for the lost souls. He straightens and plans his next destination, shifting through space effortlessly and appearing on the outskirts of the city where he believes the attacks are centered around. The houses he is surrounded with are rundown and shabby. Stray dogs roam the streets, knocking over trash cans in search of food. A foul stench overtakes Seraphiel and he turns around, coming face to face with a group of demons. There are seven of them in all and they glare at him with black eyes, mouths curled into sneers. A female steps forward and grins maliciously at the angel.

"Well, well, well. Another angel?" Her head tilts to the side slowly, glittering eyes narrowed. "The last one got away, but you will not." She launches herself forward and is burned to ashes immediately. Seraphiel hasn't moved, his posture rigid, eying the ashes distastefully. He brings his gaze back to the demons, who have quieted at the slight display of the angel's power. They hold their ground, and Seraphiel bristles at their audacity. His mouth pulls up in a snarl and he unfurls his wings as the sky darkens with black clouds, the shadows of the feathered appendages visible against the houses as lightning cracks through the air.

"You dare challenge me?" Seraphiel's voice is a thundering boom as glares at the demons before him, boiling with rage at their ignorance to the power of an angel of the Lord. He clenches one fist and another demon bursts into flames, though the process is much slower and the other demons leap away from the flaming mass and the unearthly screams emitting from the demon as it burns to death in white holy fire. Seraphiel's eyes are a fierce red, almost seeming to glow as he stares down his foes, tall and intimidating, a true warrior of God. He utters one word.

"Leave."

The hosts open their mouths and a massive cloud of black smoke fills the air, writhing as it grows larger and larger. Before it shoots off Seraphiel raises one hand and squeezes it shut. The smoke stills and compresses. Seraphiel twists his hand and inky blackness vanishes. The dark clouds dissipate and Seraphiel folds his wings tight inside his vessel, bowing his head and releasing a breath through his nostrils. He looks up again and his eyes have returned to their normal golden hue and he disappears in a torrent of wind, scattering the piles of ash up and away into the air.

Sam jumps as Seraphiel blinks into existence. As he tries to lower his heart rate the angel looks around the room impatiently.

"Where is Castiel?"

Sam almost snaps something about manners but the urgent intensity in Seraphiel's gaze has him pinned.

"He left a note saying that he and Dean went to research something about the job we're working on."

The angel is gone. Sam huffs and plops back down on the couch, pissed at being interrupted from his porn surfing. Seraphiel returns suddenly, along with Castiel and Dean. Sam shoots up off the chair in surprise and pulls a bitchface.

Dean doesn't try to figure out which number it is. He's too busy ignoring his little brother as he strides over to the table where his burger lies and retreats to his bed. Sam watches him but doesn't say a word. Castiel looks from brother to brother, brows knitted together. Meanwhile, Seraphiel quickly grows tired of the melodramatic crap that makes up the Winchester's lives. He clears his throat, claiming the attention of the occupants in the room.

"There have been signs happening all over the northern parts of this country that point to the rise of a very powerful demon. I was not sure of the demon's identity before, but now I am certain. It is Sonneillon, the demon of hatred." He turns toward Castiel. "Brother, this is the demon who gave orders to infect you with demon blood."

Castiel features tighten and he looks down, processing the information and only coming up with one question.

"Why?" Castiel is surprised when both Winchester's voices join his own, and apparently the brothers are too because Sam coughs and looks away while Dean takes a huge bite of his burger, munching on it in a way that is almost obscene. None of this seems to bother Seraphiel as he trudges on with the information.

"I'm not exactly sure. Sonneillon's drive is his hatred towards humans. I don't know why he targeted you, Castiel. I visited to where I believe he has set up a base of some sort, where he may grow stronger as he corrupts the humans around him, making them susceptible to intense hatred that leads to them kill each other."

Dean swallows his bite of burger and asks, "Where?"

"Detroit, Michigan."

* * *

**Dun dun duuun!**


	8. Mockingbird

**Where the _hell _is Cas?! I'm going to give myself an ulcer if he doesn't show up.**

**And because I realized a discrepancy with the show's timeline and this story, just pretend that Dean has gone to the future in order to see what happens to Sam. Dean hasn't told anyone what he saw in Detroit. Lucifer _has_ risen and is out doing very evil things and Ruby is alive (obviously). Which pisses me off a little, so that might not last very long. Anyway, keep all of this in mind as you read, and don't forget to tell me what you think!**

* * *

Detroit.

All of Dean's motor skills have left him and he stares dumbly at Seraphiel, that one word bringing back so many memories he'd worked so hard on forgetting.

_Detroit. Broken buildings, destroyed cities, hopeless people, a future marked with blood and despair. Cas, wallowing in drugs and sex, offering empty grins and eyes full of despair. Sam._

_Lucifer._

"It would not be wise to enter the city right now, not without checking the perimeter first."

Dean jolts out of his trance at Seraphiel's words, setting his half eaten burger down. Castiel glances at him with an unreadable expression and Dean quickly looks away.

"Castiel, I think that you and I should go to the city. Dean and Sam, you need to stay here. Don't leave the room until we get back." He stares pointedly at Sam, who arches an eyebrow and nods slowly, as if he doesn't understand why he's being singled out. Dean snorts.

_Trying to play innocent, huh?_

Seraphiel nods once at Castiel and the two angels are gone. A second passes where the two brothers catch each other's eyes. Then Sam gets up to go into the bathroom and Dean continues his burger in silence, trying not to notice the fact that it tastes like ash on his tongue.

* * *

The angels stand atop a building in the middle of Detroit, resembling two solemn gargoyles watching over the lives of the humans below them. Castiel gazes with slight wonder at the people bustling along on the streets, not understanding their need to rush through each day, especially because of their pathetically short lives. He looks over at Seraphiel, who is ignoring the humans all together, his head tilted back slightly to stare up at the afternoon sky. Castiel looks up also.

"Where do you think Father is?" Seraphiel's voice is quiet as he gazes past the birds and clouds, drawn to his home. A slight shard of longing pierces him suddenly, and for a moment he is startled by the very human emotion. After a moment the foreign feeling passes. He shakes his head slightly and Castiel can feel the air shift as his wings ruffle slightly in confused aggravation. The younger angel redirects his stare to Seraphiel, who has a slight frown on his face, his earlier question forgotten in favor of this new emotion that has made itself known to him.

"Strange creatures, aren't they?" Castiel asks.

Seraphiel nods after a moment, finally gazing down at his Father's creations with an invigorated interest.

"Yes. Strange indeed…"

They stare in silence for a bit longer before Seraphiel straightens, shifting his focus on their mission.

"It seems that demons are being drawn here by Sonneillon. With the number of them increasing day by day and Sonneillon's growing power, it will not take long for this city to be thrust into chaos. We must act quickly. I'll take the north end, you take the south and we'll meet back here."

Castiel nods his agreement and they both separate. Seraphiel appears in an alley, choosing to stay out of sight of the humans. They interest him, but he prefers to watch them from a distance. Shifting his focus inward, he closes his eyes and fans out his grace like a blanket over the north side of the city, frowning at the bumps and jagged edges the presence of the demons create. There are more of them than he originally thought. He begins to stretch his grace further in search of Castiel's, but the strangest sound reaches his ears and he opens his eyes and looks around, head cocked to the side. The noise happens again and the angel steps further back into the alley until he stops at the source of the sounds, which have quieted at his approach. Seraphiel squats down in the filthy alley next to a trash can, peering down at a white bundle of cloth. There are no more noises and he tentatively reaches out one hand to touch the object, tilting his head even further when he feels movement under his hand. He subconsciously meets Castiel's grace with his own and projects a small thread of uncertainty as he pulls back the cloth and is met with large blue eyes framed by a mop of blond hair.

Castiel is surveying the city in the same way as Seraphiel, though he is probably enjoying it more. He could not have even hoped to be able to do this in his previous state. Now it's all coming back to him, the power and the familiar warmth of having his grace returned to him. He basks in it for a few minutes before he feels the overwhelming power of Seraphiel's grace link with his own. Castiel inhales sharply at the sudden force of it. Once the shock wares off he realizes that Seraphiel is…extremely…confused. Not harmed, but confused. Castiel shifts over to the elder angel's location to find his brother holding a wiggling bundle in his arms, wide golden eyes staring down at it in awed fascination. Castiel steps closer and once he realizes what his brother is holding his eyes widen impossibly and his mouth parts slightly.

"Is that a baby?"

* * *

Dean watches the tv, trying his hardest to ignore his brother, who is typing away at his laptop, probably trying to get the scoop on the fugly that messed with Cas. His insides curl with anger at the thought of that demon trying to kill the angel. Wherever it is, Dean vows to hunt that bitch down and kill it. _No one _fucks with Cas and lives very long to talk about it, not when Dean is still breathing. And now that Cas has his mojo back, the hunter is sure he has a few choice words for the demon too. Plus they have an angel who is obviously very powerful on their side, so that helps, even if Dean still thinks he's a dick. As far as Dean is concerned, all angels are bad news. Except for Cas. Seraphiel is a different story. His eyes are creepy, the way he stares is creepy, and everything about him just rubs Dean the wrong way. The sooner he leaves the better.

Dean nods in affirmation with himself and pops more chips in his mouth, crunching rapidly as he watches a chase scene in some stupid action movie.

"Dean! Can you at least close your mouth?" Sam's voice is exasperated and he pinches the bridge of his nose. Dean shoves down the immediate impulse to go get his brother some aspirin and water because those are definite Sammy signs for a serious migraine. But he remembers that he's mad at him, and for the moment that overbalances the concern. Dean chooses not to respond to Sam, opting to stuff his face full of chips again. Sam glares at him and slams his laptop shut. He pushes himself out of his chair and stalks toward the door. Dean tails him quickly, grabbing him by the shoulder and spinning him around, backing up against the door to block the only way of escape.

"Where are you going? We're supposed to stay here!"

Sam looks incredulously at Dean, "Are you serious? You're actually listening to that golden eyed freak? You said it yourself, he's a dick. Why are you doing what he says?"

"Yeah, he's a dick. But if Cas trusts him then I trust him too, and that's more than I can say for you." Dean's voice drops into a growl as he stares down his brother. Sam's face drops for a split second before a blank expression takes its place. He doesn't say anything and they glare at each other in angered silence.

"Move, Dean," Sam says quietly. Dean crosses his arms over his chest and raises his chin.

"Make me."

Just as Sam makes a move towards his brother, Castiel appears between the two brothers, blue eyes boring into Dean's, stilling the hunter immediately. Then the angel turns and presses one hand against Sam's chest, pushing him back a good three feet.

"That's enough," he says sharply, looking between the brothers with a hint of distress lining his voice. "We have a slight problem –" Castiel is suddenly pushed to the side by Dean, who has noticed Seraphiel's silent appearance and the bundle he is holding. Dean steps toward the angel warily, green eyes widening as a small cry escapes from the moving form nestled securely in Seraphiel's arms. Dean gapes and turns back towards Sam to see that his mouth is open too. Dean faces Seraphiel and no one in the room makes a sound, save for the soft sounds coming from the angel's arms. Then Dean finds his voice.

"What the _fuck _is that? Is that a fucking _baby_? What the hell, man?"

Sam stares at the back of Dean's head, a mortified expression on his face. He walks up beside Dean and smacks his shoulder.

"Dean! Watch your language around the baby!"

Dean sputters in disbelief before hitting Sam back.

"Why the fu -" Dean stops himself and breathes in deeply for a moment. "Where did you get that baby?"

Seraphiel finally tears his gaze from the baby for the first time since entering the room and stares at Dean, totally indifferent to his outburst.

"I found him in an alley. His name is Matthew Walker and he is eight months old. Both of his parents are dead. He has no other siblings. Would you have preferred for me to leave him there?"

Dean swallows and shakes his head. This is too weird. The hunter turns to Castiel to find the angel wearing a similar expression of confusion. Sam scratches his head and exhales through his mouth.

"Well, uh, maybe we should go find a shelter or something for him."

"No."

Sam blinks and draws away slightly, looking to Dean or Castiel for help. Dean gives it a shot.

"No offense, but I don't think you know how to take care of a human baby. Am I right?" Dean nods at Seraphiel's silence. "Right, so we should give him to people who –"

"No."

Dean scowls at the sheer stubbornness of the angel. Now he knows where Cas gets it from.

"Seraphiel, you know the dangers of this situation. Why do you insist on keeping the child with you?" Castiel interjects, stepping between the Winchesters and his brother. This whole matter does not make any sense to Castiel. He knows Seraphiel would rather not have any contact with other humans besides Dean and Sam, so why is he so fixated on the baby? Castiel watches as Seraphiel strokes the infant's cheek with a gentleness that clashes against the angel's fiery disposition.

"He has no family. I refuse to leave him alone."

Castiel sighs lightly, quickly accepting the fact that Seraphiel will not let them take the baby away, not when Matthew has no family to be sent to. A slight feeling of respect passes through Castiel at Seraphiel's dedication to the importance of family, a trait that is usually held for his brothers and sisters in Heaven. Castiel is glad to see that he has extended it to the humans, even if it is just for the children.

"Fine. Whatever." Dean moves to sit on his bed, watching as Seraphiel sits on the floor with Matthew on his lap, peering down curiously at him. Dean shakes his head at the sight and taps one finger against his knee. Sam has moved to sit at the desk, also watching Seraphiel interact with the baby. The angel waves his hand once and produces what looks like a baby rattle out of thin air. The basic shape is there, but there are strangely shaped holes cut into the round wooden top and ancient symbols marked in paint run down the handle. Seraphiel hands the toy to Matthew and he grabs it with a pleased gurgle, shaking it enthusiastically. Instead of the rattling noise that is supposed to be produced, the sounds of rushing water and wind comes from the wooden object. Matthew breaks out into peals of laughter and Seraphiel smiles fondly at him. The sounds morph into something that sounds like a choir singing, but it is faint, fading into the background as the sound of water and air return, causing a strange sense of peace to seep into the room. Dean looks at the toy with a small amount of suspicion and Sam seems enthralled by it.

"I will find a family for him." Seraphiel looks at each of the Winchesters in turn, his expression serious. Matthew has fallen asleep and Seraphiel pushes the blanket around him up higher before continuing. "Detroit is far worse than I expected. I think it is best if we attack before Sonneillon becomes too strong."

"How will they help us? They are not immune to his power like we are," says Castiel. Seraphiel hums in agreement.

"Yes, I have taken that into consideration. Open your hand."

Castiel does and two objects appear in his palm. He holds them up to see that they are necklaces, each having a small blue stone hanging by a silver chain. Something seems to swirling around in the stones, giving them an ethereal quality. Castiel tosses one to Sam and the other to Dean. As soon as it touches the Winchesters' skin the stone pulses once and the swirling substance inside of it stills.

"Those stones will keep you safe from Sonneillon's power. But you must keep them on at all costs. It is of the greatest import that you do _not _loose them. Understand?" Both brothers nod. A far away look passes over Seraphiel's features and he blinks out of existence.

"Where the hell did he go with the baby?" Dean asks as he fastens the stone around his neck.

"I believe he has found Matthew a family."

Seraphiel touches ground on the porch of a white two story house in Arizona. A man and a woman live here, Ron and Sarah Jones. Seraphiel produces a basket on the porch in front of him. The seraph presses his lips to Matthew's forehead and a faint glow emits from the infant's body before it fades away. Seraphiel places Matthew carefully into the basket and knocks on the door three times. Once he hears approaching footsteps he conceals himself from human eyes and steps back off the porch. The door opens and a raven haired woman sticks her head out of the door and looks around in confusion. Then she looks down and gasps.

"Ron! Ron, come here!"

Sarah picks up the child on her doorstep and presses him to her body, looking up at the sky with shining eyes and a beautiful smile. Seraphiel tilts his head and watches as Ron appears and knows that he has picked the perfect family for Matthew. The longing feeling from before returns as he watches the newly formed family, stronger this time, and Seraphiel clutches at his chest as he fights back the overwhelming urge to return to Heaven as fast as possible so he won't have to deal with these…_feelings. _He wasn't made for this; he was made to remain in Heaven with his Father. These emotions bother him more than he cares to admit and he looks one last time at Matthew's new parents before he returns to the Winchesters and his brother, a troubled expression on his face.

"How did it go?" Sam asks. He may not be fond of the angel, but the way he was with the baby has made him slightly more tolerable to the younger Winchester. Maybe he isn't that bad. In response to Sam's question Seraphiel stiffens slightly.

"He will be fine." The angel's voice is clipped and no one dares to ask any more than that. "We must prepare a location of safety in Detroit."

"Like a safe house," Dean interrupts.

Seraphiel doesn't look pleased at Dean's interruption, but he nods. "That is the place we will remain while we…dispose of this problem that has arisen. If you need supplies, this is a good time to go out and get them. We will leave later tonight."

"Whoa, tonight? Why so soon? Can't we – "

The two angels are already gone. Dean curses and pounds one fist on the bed. He isn't ready to go back there so quickly. "Son of a bitch!"

* * *

Demons are everywhere. As soon as the two angels step foot in an old warehouse that Castiel pointed out they were overtaken by a massive amount of demons. Castiel and Seraphiel fight furiously, but for every demon they exorcise two more seem to take its place. Seraphiel growls and summons a little of his grace, incinerating five demons. He looks over at Castiel to find the other angel locked in battle, flitting between the demons and cutting them down with a grace only possessed by a warrior. Castiel may not be one of the strongest angels, but he can easily be considered as the quickest. Seraphiel continues to fight off the demons, growing more frustrated as wave after wave of the black eyed abominations appear. He looks to find Castiel again. The younger angel is being pushed back towards a wall, and Seraphiel doubles his efforts, creating a path towards his brother. Castiel is holding his own, eyes fierce, fighting back with all that he's worth. Seraphiel can't unleash his grace like he would like to with Castiel in the building also; it would kill him. And he doubts Castiel would leave him here, no matter how sure he was about Seraphiel's power.

Almost to his brother now, Seraphiel disposes of three more demons and looks to where he saw Castiel last, only to see that he's gone. The demons that once surrounded his brother are gone also and Seraphiel spins around to realize that he is alone.

"Castiel?"

Seraphiel quickly flares out his grace, searching for his brother. He can't sense it.

"Castiel!"

A new feeling shoots through Seraphiel like a bolt of lightning and his wings unfurl from the unwelcome sensation. He's never felt this before in his entire existence and it's overwhelming to have such a strong sensation that is so unsettling inside of him. The feeling only grows stronger as he calls out for Castiel with his grace and he finally recognizes the emotion it for what it is.

Fear.

For the first time since his creation fear overtakes Seraphiel's senses and he returns to the Winchester's motel room. He is immensely relieved to find that they are still there, because if not he would have a very hard time finding them. Both Sam and Dean cease their packing and turn to Seraphiel, noting the tight expression on his face. Dean peers at him, brows furrowed.

"What's wrong with you? Where's Cas?"

Seraphiel's fists clench at his brother's name and a flurry of panic washes over Dean. He walks up to Seraphiel, his entire body tense.

"Where. Is. Cas."

Dean expects to be fried within the next five seconds because there has to be some law about talking to freakishly powerful angels like that. But he's surprised when Seraphiel actually drops his head a little, eyes lowered to the ground.

"I don't know."

* * *

**I couldn't resist making Cas go away. Maybe Kripke will read this and realize that he needs to bring Cas back as soon as possible. =)**

**And I couldn't use any of the little marks to seperate the scenes, so I apologize if there's any confusion.**

**Drop me a line if you have the time. I love hearing your opinions.**


	9. Beloved brother

**As always, thanks to my reviewers and everyone who has favorited and who is following this story. This wouldn't be nearly as fun without you all.**

* * *

Dean is glaring hard at the angel in front of him, fists clenched so tightly a trickle of blood slips from his palm through his fingers and onto the carpeted floor. His expression is stony as he repeats his question.

"Where. The hell. _Is he_?"

Seraphiel's jaw tightens in response. Sam watches the exchange nervously, hoping this doesn't escalate into a fight. Scraping organs off the walls isn't the ideal way to spend an evening.

"I don't know," Seraphiel says again, sounding strained. "We found a location for the…safe house…and when we got there we were ambushed by a very large amount of demons. At first we were doing fine but they kept coming. I looked away for one moment and he was gone."

Seraphiel's voice quieted and his eyes sought the floor again. Dean quickly decides that the devastated expression on the angel's face doesn't belong there and neither does the slight waver in his voice.

"He is my younger brother…I should have been watching him. It is my duty to watch him."

Even though Dean still hasn't warmed up Seraphiel, he can't help but feel a twinge of empathy for the angel. He knows how it feels to let your little brother down. He knows all too well the bitter taste of failure and the sting of worthlessness. His mind made up, Dean squares his shoulders.

"Seraphiel." Dean isn't sure if the tone he uses with Sam works on angels of the Lord, but he gives it a try anyway, surprised when Seraphiel's head actually snaps up. Dean feels slightly pleased with himself. But now isn't the time to pat himself on the back so he shakes the feeling off and claps a hand on Seraphiel's shoulder, staring into golden orbs with earnest determination.

"Listen to me. We're going to get Cas back. We'll gank any son of a bitch that tries to stop us, no questions asked. But if we're going to do that, you can't start kicking yourself in the ass now because frankly, you're our best shot. So Sam and I need you to strap on your angel wings and your holy fire or whatever and start smiting the shit out of anything that gets between Cas and us, you got that?"

Seraphiel stares down at the human in front of him, noting the determined set of his jaw, the conviction in his eyes and the brightness in his gaze, and for a second Seraphiel visualizes his brother Michael standing in front of him. Much of the archangel's qualities are mirrored in Dean. They are more alike than he thought.

The angel finally nods, coming to the conclusion that this human is different from the rest. This one is worthy enough to follow.

"Alright then." Dean pats Seraphiel on the shoulder once and turns to Sam.

"Pack up. We're going to Detroit." Dean's already gathering his things, scuffling around the room until he realizes that no one else is moving. He supposes Seraphiel isn't because he doesn't have anything to pack, but Sam is just staring down at his feet with an intense frown. Dean snaps his fingers.

"Hey! Sam, get a move on, we're wasting time here."

Sam jumps a little in surprise.

"Yeah, sorry." He begins to collect his things.

Seraphiel still hasn't moved when the Winchesters's bags are packed. He steps towards them, two fingers outstretched. Dean's eyes widen.

"Get the hell away from me!" Dean scrambles out of the way quickly. Seraphiel pauses and stares at the hunter in befuddlement. Sam sighs.

"The last time Cas did that Dean didn't poop for a week."

"Yeah, so don't get any funny ideas," Dean adds, "We're going the human way. How the hell am I supposed to go after Cas with whacked up bowel movements?"

Seraphiel lowers his hand and nods slowly. "Very well then."

The sun is setting once the hunters and angel head out of their room and to the Impala. Seraphiel stares at the car with a hint of suspicion. He watches as Dean pats the vehicle's side affectionately.

"She's the best car you'll ever see."

Sam rolls his eyes as he loads their things in the trunk. Seraphiel is still eying the Impala warily. He doesn't trust the contraption.

"This...is how humans travel?"

"Yep. We're a while from Detroit, so you'll have plenty of time to get used to her." Dean's eyes travel up and down Seraphiel's form. "Dude, if you're going to be hanging around a bunch of humans we need to change your getup." Seraphiel looks down at himself and frowns.

"Are these clothes not suitable? When I contacted Charlie he was out working in his yard, but I assumed –"

"That's your vessel? Charlie?" Dean cuts him off.

Seraphiel frowns slightly. "Yes. He was very eager to do God's work."

"Well that's great and all, but those won't cut it up in Michigan. You'll need a jacket to fit in. And most people don't have those freaky eyes of yours." Dean opens the car door and motions for Seraphiel to get in. The angel's frown deepens but he gets in anyway, looking extremely uncomfortable and out of place on the leather seat. Sam is already up front, studying a map. Dean takes one last look at the motel before he gets in the Impala and starts it up, ripping out of the parking lot and to their next destination.

"Okay, who is this?"

Seraphiel cocks his head as he listens to the music blaring out of the Impala's stereo. His brows furrow and he taps the rhythm on his knees.

"Led Zeppelin?"

"Yeah! Hey Sammy, he got it!" Dean looks ridiculously pleased, grinning from ear to ear. Sam thinks he looks like a seven year old. He has the craziest impulse to pull Dean over and tell him that he's too young to drive.

"That's great, Dean."

Dean is either too happy to notice the sarcasm or he just doesn't care. He looks so gleeful that it almost seems inappropriate.

"Alright flyboy, what about this?"

A new song plays, and Seraphiel answers quickly, "Bon Jovi."

"Right again! You learn fast. It took Cas forever to tell between different bands."

Seraphiel smiles faintly, glad to finally understand an aspect of the human's lives, albeit a small one.

"I like your music, Dean. It is different from what I am used to, but I find it very enjoyable."

Dean grins again and throws a triumphant smile at Sam.

"See, Sam? He has good music taste. Maybe you could learn something from him."

Sam snorts, leaning his head against the window and closing his eyes. "Whatever, wake me when we stop."

Dean shrugs and turns down the music a bit, content to cruise along and think. Sam seemed to be in a better mood, which was probably due to the familiar feel of being on the road in the Impala again. They need something that can ground them to what they were before, before the angels and apocalypse, back when it was just Sam and Dean, kicking demon ass and taking names. When it was a simple salt and burn, when they had their dad to back them up. Before the demon blood and the lies. Dean's insides curl a little at the thought of Sam, his little brother, guzzling down demon blood like a freaking vampire. And it seems like whatever Sam does, he tip toes closer and closer to what Dean saw in the future. That _monster…_

Seraphiel watches Dean from the backseat, staring intently at the rare, unguarded expression on the hunter's face. He knows what he's thinking about, and he wishes that Dean could understand the magnitude of the situation he was thrust into. In Heaven Seraphiel did not concern himself with the plight of humans. Even though God favored the flawed and alien creatures, Seraphiel did not spare them a second glance, simply choosing to stay by his Father's throne in complete adoration of Him. Despite this, he was well aware of what would happen if Dean did not give himself to Michael. And the end result was much worse than what Dean saw. Worse than anything he could ever imagine. It would not only affect Earth, but Heaven too. Seraphiel knows his family would be ripped apart. For good. But he isn't sure if Michael's way will be any better. He is stronger than Lucifer, but that doesn't mean defeating him will be easy. It will be the hardest thing Michael will ever have to do, because Seraphiel knows that Michael still loves his little brother. But he will still kill him, because that is what he is meant to do, and he is a good son. Even with Lucifer's fall, nothing will ever be the same again. Seraphiel will loose another brother and his Father might not come back.

Their family will still be broken.

With God missing, Michael has taken upon himself to end the war. Somewhere inside of himself Seraphiel agrees with his older brother; Lucifer must be stopped, but a small part of him remembers just how brightly Lucifer shone and the love he had for him. Has for him. It makes things that much harder.

Seraphiel looks away from Earth's only chance at survival and turns to gaze out the window at the nature created by his Father.

On the way to Detroit, the only time the group stopped was to sleep and to pick out some things for Seraphiel. The angel refused to wear anything that Dean suggested, fixed adamantly on a black t-shirt and Charlie's jeans. After more goading from Dean he acquiesced to a black leather jacket also. As for his eyes, they went and got him brown contacts, only to find out that they didn't any good; Seraphiel's eyes were still a bright gold. They ended up getting black colored ones and even then the angel's eyes were a very light brown, seemingly gold when the sun hit them just right.

"Dean."

Dean looked in the mirror to see Seraphiel staring at something outside intently.

"What is it?"

Seraphiel doesn't answer right away. He stares at the passing scenery, though Dean knows he's focused on something else entirely at the way he's sitting rigid in his seat. Out of the corner of Dean's eyes he sees Sam stiffen.

"Something is following us."

Sam turns in his seat to look at him.

"What? What is?"

The angel cocks his head, mouth turned down at the corners, staring into space. He has a look of intense concentration on his face and he seems unaware of his physical surroundings as he continues to focus on something the Winchesters probably couldn't wrap their heads around. After a moment of baited silence his features relax a little and he blinks owlishly.

"I cannot sense it anymore…" He trails off and places his hands in his lap.

Dean alternates from looking at the road to Seraphiel. Sam is still craned around to look out of the back window.

"Well is it a bad thing?" Dean asks, "Something we need to kill?"

"I don't know. Its presence is cloaked; I –"

The angel cuts himself short and a brief flash of panic crosses his face. Before Dean and Sam can react a bright light envelops Seraphiel. The Impala swerves and skids to a halt on the side of the road, the smell of burning rubber permeating in the air. When the hunters bring their arms down from their faces Seraphiel is nowhere to be seen. Dean swears he saw the shadow of a hand reaching for the angel before he was blinded by the light. Sam is wearing a 'what the fuck' expression beside him and Dean slaps the steering wheel hard.

"Son of a bitch!"

* * *

The world is spinning. There's a hard grip on his shoulder as he's jerked around like a rag doll. Anymore of this and the Seraphiel is sure the joint will become dislocated.

Suddenly, everything stops.

Seraphiel is dazed at the abrupt motion and the world seems to tilt on its axis as the angel attempts to regain his equilibrium. Unfortunately, he doesn't have the time. He's pushed forcefully against a stone wall; he distractedly discovers that he's large empty room, sunlight streaming through the only window. He's pushed harder against the wall and he hears a splintering noise as a result. His body sinks back into the hard surface with the force exerted and he steers his unfocused gaze to the blazing green eyes fixed heatedly on his. For the second time since his creation, Seraphiel feels fear.

But this is the first time he feels fear for his life.

"Michael…"

Seraphiel's eyes are wide in disbelief at the fact his brother is standing in front of him. He's not supposed to be here. His vessel is not a Winchester, so he will not be able to contain himself for long. Seraphiel decides on that being a good thing.

Michael grips Seraphiel's throat in one hand, lifting him off the ground and throwing him to the other side of the room. The seraph crashes into the wall with enough force it should have crumbled, but Michael must be reinforcing the walls. So much for escaping. Just as Seraphiel rises to his feet he's thrown again, hitting his back hard and crumpling the floor. He lays there, panting and wide eyed, watching, helpless, as his elder brother advances on him like a lion would a lamb.

The archangel picks up Seraphiel by his neck again and pins him against the wall once more, a good foot off the ground. Seraphiel latches one hand on his brother's wrist, his breaths harsh and shallow.

"Michael, wait, don't –"

"Silence." The command has all the force of Heaven behind it, a thousand voices booming in unison, rocking the room through its foundations. Dust falls from the ceiling and the walls crack. Seraphiel closes his mouth with an audible snap, not daring to open it again unless he is told to do so.

"How dare you? Did you really think you could just leave and try and hide amongst these humans? You don't belong here and you never will, you _know _that, don't you?"

Seraphiel nods as best he can, afraid to do much of anything else. Michael is intimidating even when he isn't trying to be, but when it's intentional he's fucking _scary. _

"What I don't understand is why you're choosing to help them with their foolish plans. You know it will do no good. Didn't you come to convince Dean to say yes?"

Again Seraphiel nods, swallowing hard.

"Then please explain to me why you refuse to come back. Why have you abandoned us?"

Michael loosens his grip enough for Seraphiel to be able to speak. At first he isn't sure what to say. It isn't everyday that you have the strongest being next to God pinning you up by your neck against a wall. But at the growing irritation on Michael's face Seraphiel quickly starts talking, "I have not abandoned anyone. I have grown to admire Dean and his strong will. He is stubborn and reckless, but he will do anything for the ones he cares about. He reminds me of you, brother." Michael's expression falls flat at that, but Seraphiel continues, "I'm…not sure if you are approaching this the right way. Maybe they do have a chance, maybe –"

By the look on his brother's face Seraphiel knows he said something wrong.

"Why can't you understand? Lucifer has to be stopped at all costs. There is no other way to win this, Seraphiel. You know it. Lucifer can't be allowed to come into power; you know how disastrous it would be. I must end this." Michael's eyes bore into Seraphiel's. The younger angel keeps the eye contact. He misses the flash of silver in Michael's hand until the tip is positioned over his heart.

An archangel's sword.

Seraphiel freezes completely, eyes flickering back from his brother to the blade gleaming in his hand.

"Michael…you wouldn't…after all we've been through?" Seraphiel doesn't dare look away.

Michael's face resembles carved stone as he looks over his younger brother. He suddenly remembers the moment when God created Seraphiel. He was fiercely loyal to their Father from the moment his purpose was made clear and all of Heaven burned brighter with his vigor. He was always singing, always praising, always so sure of his role. But it was obvious that he was extremely fond of Lucifer, always attempting prove himself to his older brother. But they are too different; Lucifer is an extremely proud creature, which is what led to his fall. Seraphiel is humble but fierce when need be.

Michael can't see that now. All he sees is a lost little brother, begging for his life and the chance to fix an already broken family. He lowers the blade, watching as Seraphiel sags with relief.

"No. I won't. I don't want to see you killed, Seraphiel. Come back with me, this will not end well for you if you don't."

Seraphiel shakes his head slowly.

"I can't. Father isn't there anymore and I'm tired of the fighting. What good will come of my return?"

Michael frowns. "This will not end well for you," he repeats, each word weighted with an underlying meaning that both angels understand.

"I know." Seraphiel's voice is quiet.

A distant sadness surfaces in the archangel's eyes as he looks upon his sibling.

"If you choose this as your fate, then so be it." Michael lets Seraphiel go and steps back. "You will be missed, brother." He is gone then, and Seraphiel slides down the wall and brings his knees up, curling his arms around them and dropping his head.

He has never felt so alone.

* * *

Castiel jolts awake, chained by his wrists and ankles to a wall. There's enough slack to stand and move around a little bit. His entire body feels uncomfortably heavy, like his vessel's blood has been replaced with lead. But that is the least of the angel's worries.

Sonneillon is standing in front of him, a feral grin in place as he twirls a razor blade in one hand.

"Hey there, _Cas. _I see you're still alive. We'll just have to fix that, won't we?

* * *

**Ha! There's Cas! :D**

**I bet you didn't expect Michael to show up.**

**.....Did you? O.O**

**Reviews make my world go round!**


	10. Where is your God?

**I am so glad Cas is back! I can't believe this season is coming to an end. I'm going to be so sad when it's over. **

**Sad face.**

**=(**

**Oh, and if you haven't noticed, I decided to name the chapters. I get tired of looking at numbers.**

* * *

Sonneillon twirls the blade in his hand as he stares down at Castiel with gleaming eyes.

"You're a small one, aren't you?"

Castiel can't bring himself to disagree. He's dirty and wet from when he was dragged though puddles formed by the water dripping from the ceiling and he's curled into the corner because he's…cold. He's cold. This new sensation unsettles him a bit because he isn't supposed to get cold. Even if his shirt is open and his suit jacket is missing –

Wait…what?

Castiel looks down at himself. He still has on his trench coat, but his shirt is unbuttoned, revealing some kind of sigil cut into the smooth skin of his torso. The flesh is inflamed and it throbs slightly. Castiel's eyes narrow and he glares up at the demon before him.

"What have you done to me?"

Sonneillon merely grins.

"I just…locked your grace up somewhere tight." He squats in front of the angel and smirks when Castiel presses himself back into the corner, a look of disgust crossing his face. "Right…" He prods Castiel's chest. "Here." Sonneillon keeps his finger pressed to his captive and after a moment a searing pain overtakes Castiel and he cries out, calling on his grace instinctively to separate himself from the demon. This proves as a mistake. Something inside of him burns like acid and his grace rebels, flaring painfully. Castiel shivers violently and abandons his attempt, chest heaving with every labored breath.

"Don't strain yourself, kiddo. Can't wear yourself out before we get to the real fun, hm?" Sonneillon pats Castiel's shoulder before straightening up. He looks around, examining his whereabouts like he's noticing it for the first time. "Its way too dark in here," he comments absently. The demon claps his hand twice and light floods the room, making Castiel's pupils shrink to adjust to the brightness. Sonneillon then turns to Castiel again. "Well, come on. Move out of that corner." Castiel glares defiantly at the demon, who sighs and clucks his tongue in admonishment.

"Always have to do things the hard way, don't you?"

Castiel is no longer chained to the wall. The cuffs are now only around each of his wrists and they link together by a steel bar in the middle, keeping Castiel's arms out in front of him. From the bar extends a chain, the end of which is in Sonneillon's hand. He gives it a hard tug, dragging Castiel towards him. The angel puts up a fight, rearing back with what little strength he has, but Sonneillon narrows his eyes and the same white hot pain envelops Castiel again, stronger this time. He drops on his side, clutching his stomach as he folds himself tightly into his vessel, trying to lessen the pain in anyway he can. He doesn't resist when Sonneillon pulls him across the hard concrete, he stays on his side with his arms tight against his stomach as he's dragged closer and closer to his enemy. As soon as he's close enough Sonneillon's hand shoots out and grips Castiel by his dark hair, jerking his head back and exposing the pale skin of his throat.

"You know…" Sonneillon traces the tip of his blade along Castiel's neck, right under his jaw and along his Adam's apple. "I can carve a sigil here and make it so that every time you speak a newborn baby dies." He pauses to dig in the razor deeper, watching as a trickle of blood wells up to run down the angel's collar bone. "Hm...Or maybe I could tear out your larynx and replace it with one from a horse. That would be interesting, wouldn't it?" He grins down at Castiel and places the gleaming metal to the side of his neck. "But right now I'd rather hear you scream…" Just as Sonneillon begins to break skin a powerful gale forms in the middle of the room.

"Let him go, Sonneillon."

Seraphiel's gaze is hard as he stares down the demon. Sonneillon releases Castiel and stands up, holding his arms out in welcome.

"Seraphiel! It's been a while, hasn't it? What have you been up to lately? Still playing your little harp and being the model choir boy, hm?"

Castiel has dragged himself back against the wall, watching the scene unfold with slight confusion. Have Seraphiel and Sonneillon met before? His brother never mentioned it…

"All those millennia of praise, look at where that got you." Sonneillon's visage suddenly becomes vicious and his eyes glow with a red light, his features shifting into something that is horrid and truly demonic. Castiel instinctively stiffens at the waves of pure _evil _emanating from Sonneillon.

"Daddy's abandoned you, and you don't know what the hell you're doing, do you?"

A carefully blank mask slips over Seraphiel's features at the demon's words. Castiel isn't sure how strong Sonneillon is, but if he doesn't stop baiting Seraphiel he might not live much longer. He sneers at the seraph spitefully, and it is easy to see why he is labeled the demon of hate.

"Where is your God now, hm? Where is He? I'll go ahead and spare you trouble of trying to look for Him." He grins in sick gleefulness and lowers his voice as if he is telling the world's most important secret. "He's _dead._" He breaks out into maniacal laughter that sends chills shooting down Castiel's spine. Castiel chances a look at Seraphiel and realizes that the entire city is in immediate danger.

A boiling fury sparks in Seraphiel's eyes and Sonneillon is flung back into a wall, the audible crack of his head meeting concrete echoing in the room.

"_Hold thy tongue, vile creature!"_

Seraphiel's true voice rocks the room, and it's the sound of crackling wildfires, thunderstorms, and hurricanes. His wings have burst out of his vessel, brilliant in their red and orange hues, flowing and dancing in the way a wild flame would in the wind. They span out towards each end of the room, scorching the walls with their radiance and basking this decrepit place in holy light. It is glorious, and Seraphiel looks magnificent as he stands erect in the center of it all, a figure of power and fierceness. His skin is glowing with Heaven's strength and Castiel can't tear his eyes away from his brother as Seraphiel begins to speak in a voice that can only belong to a defender of God's throne.

"_Thou art no more worthy than the lowest of insects before the glory of the Almighty Father! His holy name will never be tarnished again by thy wicked mouth, for I shall smite thee into oblivion!"_

The room is still shaking with the power echoed from Seraphiel's words, and then Sonneillon does something that has probably never happened before in a situation like this.

He laughs.

Castiel watches, opened mouthed as Sonneillon _laughs _at the infinitely powerful being before him. The demon wipes fake tears from his eyes and chuckles.

"That holy bullshit doesn't work with me, _brother._"

_No…_

Sonneillon notices the shocked expression on Castiel's face and suddenly he's laughing again.

"This is priceless! Yeah Cas, I'm your brother. I shouldn't be surprised that Seraphiel never filled you in. I'm not exactly good with the family, you know."

Castiel looks to Seraphiel for confirmation. The elder angel doesn't look at his young brother, only at Sonneillon, distaste showing clearly on his features. Castiel supposes this is the only answer he'll get right now.

"I was cast out, not long after Lucifer, so this was before your time, Cas. But here's the kicker; Seraphiel was the one who threw me out!" He pauses to snicker, "We just didn't see eye to eye. I was on Lucifer's side because he was _right. _Why should we have to bow down to these sniveling apes? God must have been on some good drugs when he created the mud monkeys because they are so flawed it's hard to even look at them. Humans and all their technology and eco-friendly _shit_; trying to make it seem like they're so advanced and intelligent. It makes. Me. Sick. Lucifer is right. They should bow to us, not the other way around. I want Lucifer to win this war, and the only obstacle in our way is Dean Winchester. So I decided to go after someone important to him in the hopes that I could break his spirit. No such luck." Sonneillon's words are laced with so much hate and disgust and Castiel can't understand how all of that can belong to one being, especially one who was an angel.

"Now, Seraphiel didn't rip my wings out of my back like Michael did with Lucifer, but after a while in Hell they just kind of…shriveled up. I'm barely an angel anymore. But hey, that's okay with me. Once I get things ready I'll get my reward."

Castiel's brain is trying futilely to register all of this information as Seraphiel advances on Sonneillon like a panther, deadly and powerful. The fallen angel backs up until his back is flush against the wall and Seraphiel stops with two feet separating them.

"What things? What are you planning?" Seraphiel's voice has returned to that of a human's, but that does not lessen the strength radiating from him. Sonneillon leers at the angel.

"Well…I suppose I can tell you now, since I've already taken over this city. If you weren't so busy focusing on little old me, you might have noticed that I've been sending hordes of demons straight out of Hell into this city through a portal not far away." Seraphiel's eyes gleam in anger and Sonneillon smirks triumphantly. "Looks like…you loose." His cackle is cut short as Seraphiel's hand darts out like a snake, catching his throat in a tight grip. "Go ahead. Send me back to Hell. This'll be a trip down memory lane, hm?" Seraphiel growls low in his throat in response and squeezes hard, crushing Sonneillon's windpipe. Somehow, he still manages to speak. "Lucifer will be waiting for me there anyway, and he'll be extremely pleased that I've got this city ready for him. So send me back. You'll be doing me a favor." Seraphiel stiffens in rage.

"_Thy sins require a different punishment. Thou will not be sent to Hell, nor any other plane of existence. I shall destroy thee completely. Thou will cease to exist."_

The smug looks drops of Sonneillon's face in an instant and fear quickly replaces it.

"No, brother, I can help you, I can –"

Seraphiel presses one hand against Sonneillon's forehead and the thing barely passing for an angel shrieks as he's burned from the inside out by holy fire. There is a blinding light and when it clears, all that is left of Sonneillon is a pile of ashes. Seraphiel lowers his head and exhales deeply, and as the air escapes his lungs his wings flicker and disappear. The room returns to its dull existence and all is quiet. Castiel doesn't dare move as Seraphiel stands in silent concentration. Then he feels the shackles disappear from his wrists and he looks up to find his brother's gaze on him.

"Come, Castiel. Lucifer will notice what has happened and we cannot afford that encounter."

The rest doesn't need to be spoken. As powerful as Seraphiel is, he is still no match for the Morning Star. So Castiel stands and walks on shaky legs towards his brother, who rests a hand on his shoulder. Slight tendrils of power slip over Castiel from the older angel's hand. Turning to look up at Seraphiel, Castiel voices his question, "How will we find Sam and Dean?"

* * *

Detroit is crawling with demons. They're everywhere; in supermarkets, on the streets, they're even climbing up the fucking billboards. And Sam and Dean are smack dab in the middle of it. After Seraphiel got angelnapped the brothers decided to keep driving and made it into the city, hoping to find some trace of either one of the angels. Instead, they find hundreds of demons and burning buildings and total destruction.

"Dean, behind you!" Dean whips around at Sam's warning and stabs a demon with Ruby's knife. He then tosses it to Sam, who kills another one. They're in the middle of the street and they're hopelessly surrounded on all sides. Dean really doesn't want to die here, but that's looking like how this will turn out. Dean turns to Sam and sees the same recognition in his eyes as he fights his way over to him.

"Dean, listen, I – " He kills another demon and Dean nails one in the head with a crowbar. "Dean, I'm sorry."

The older Winchester pauses. He punches a demon hard across the face and barely notices the crack of his knuckles as he hears Sam spill his guts about the demon blood and all of the other shit he'd been doing behind his back.

"I'm sorry, Dean. I don't think we're getting out of this one alive, and I guess it takes something like this to finally kick me in the ass." He throws the knife to Dean and lashes out with on long leg, catching a demon in the ribs. "I just want to fix things. If we do get out of this, I want you to know that I'm done with all of that. For good."

Dean swallows and thrusts the knife up into his target's eye socket. He opens his mouth to respond, but a flashing light appears and the demons surrounding the hunters shriek and they burst into flames. They run around on fire like chickens with their heads cut off until they drop dead. The Winchesters blink and find themselves in a very expensive hotel room, a suite by the looks of it. They stand there, confused at the sudden change in scenery.

"I found Castiel."

At Seraphiel's voice and the mention of Cas, Sam and Dean turn to see said angels standing behind them. Castiel is leaning slightly against Seraphiel, who's features are tight. Dean is the first to react, taking Castiel by the arm and leading him sit on one of the plush beds.

"Hey buddy, good to see you." Dean starts to look over Cas, and Sam turns to Seraphiel.

"How did you find us? And what's with all those demons back there?"

Seraphiel doesn't look like he wants to be interrogated at the moment, but he answers Sam's question in a patient voice.

"I tracked the necklaces I gave you. Those demons were summoned by Sonneillon, and he is the one that took Castiel. I've taken care of him, but not before he completed his plan, which was to get Detroit ready for Lucifer. I suppose he needed a city in which to call a base, somewhere to build off from."

"Why is he shaking?" Dean asks, frowning worriedly as he looks down at Castiel. Apparantly he hasn't listened to a word Seraphiel has said. "And where are the rest of his clothes?" All attention is turned to the damp and slightly shivering angel on the bed.

"Sonneillon has branded him with a sigil." Seraphiel comes over to the bed and nudges Dean out of the way, slightly amused when the hunter immediately crowds in close again.

"What are you going to do to him?" Dean demands.

"Do not worry, this will not hurt him."

Castiel looks up at Seraphiel as the older angel presses one hand on top of his head. Seraphiel closes his eyes and begins muttering a string of foreign sounding words rapidly. Sam moves to stand beside Dean, listening intently.

"Enochian," he mumbles helpfully. Dean nods absently, watching as the angry red lines covering Castiel's chest start to vanish before his eyes. Seraphiel continues to speak quickly, stopping when Castiel's skin is unmarked. He removes his hand and waves it. Castiel is now dry and fully clothed again as he sits there in all his holy tax accountant glory.

"Thank you, Seraphiel." He says.

Seraphiel nods and steps back a little. Sensing what is about to happen, Dean lurches forward and latches his hand onto Seraphiel's shoulder.

"Whoa, what's the rush? How about you tell us what the hell is going on before you take off?"

A displeased expression greets Dean and the hunter is surprised with how easily Seraphiel's face can be read. While it is easier to judge the angel's emotions at the moment, Dean thinks he prefers Castiel's often blank expression. It was familiar and Dean could read Castiel well enough without expressions.

"Michael found me."

The room is quiet. Then it explodes into a flurry of raised voices:

"Son of a bitch! Fuck!"

"How the hell did he find us? Is he coming back?"

"Where is he now, Seraphiel? Can he find us again?"

"Goddamn angels, always screwing things up!"

"I take offense to that, Dean."

"Oh, sorry Cas. I didn't mean that –"

Seraphiel sighs and waits until everyone falls silent again before continuing.

"It was my fault. I did not put much effort in hiding myself from Michael because I didn't expect him to look for me. The marks on your ribs still prevent other angels from finding you; he just tracked me down while I happened to be with you. It is good that he did not try to take you, Dean. I am sorry for putting you in danger."

"It's okay, I guess. He can't find us, so we're good, right?" Dean stiffens at the angel's silence. "Right, Seraphiel?"

"Not necessarily. Now we have Lucifer to worry about. If Sonneillon was working on a stronghold for him, he could surface at any day now. This does not bode well for all of us."

Castiel, who has been sitting quietly up to this point, cuts in sharply. "Can I have a word with you, brother?"

Seraphiel meets icy blue eyes and nods. The angels disappear, leaving two pissed off hunters behind.

"I don't even know where to begin! How come you didn't tell me about Sonneillon? And what does Michael want?" The two angels are on the roof of the hotel as the sun beats down on them from above. Castiel is furious. Seraphiel doesn't respond to his yelling. A weariness has settled itself into the seraph from the moment Michael left him. He knows that he has been abandoned by his elder brother. He has not been cast out of Heaven, but he realizes that Michael will have nothing to do with him unless he wants to help get Dean to say yes. A part of him wants to, just so that all of this can be over. But now he's starting to realize what Castiel sees in these humans. Yes, they are flawed and they are not the most intelligent of creatures at times, but they try, and there is some allure to the desperate way in which they spend their short lives to try and give it meaning.

"Sonneillon was before your time. I did not think it mattered where he came from, only that I destroy him."

Castiel lets out a small huff of air. "You still should have told me."

"You are right. I am sorry."

Castiel pauses at the quickness of Seraphiel's apology. He notices that his brother's essence isn't shining as brightly today. He has dimmed greatly and he seems frayed around the edges. Castiel looks at Seraphiel, looks at him in the way how angels identify each other. They don't see physical characteristics, only their inner selves, their grace. Each angel's grace is different and it reflects their very essence. Castiel's is a cool blue, light and wisp-like. Normally Seraphiel's is usually very vibrant, but something is troubling him and that taints his grace.

"What has happened to you, brother? Is it Michael?" Castiel knows that Seraphiel has a deep respect for his elder brothers, even Gabriel, who disappeared a very long time ago.

"Michael has left me."

Seraphiel's voice is flat, but Castiel knows how wrecked he must feel. Castiel was left behind also.

"Did…did he cut you off?"

Seraphiel shakes his head.

"No…but he does not want anything to do with me." The stirring of emotion cracks across his features and Castiel can't believe that Seraphiel was brimming with all the brilliance of Heaven not even an hour ago. "I don't understand. I was only trying to help. I just want everything back to normal."

It's like witnessing a dam break. Castiel watches forlornly as Seraphiel's control slips and shatters like china glass.

"I want Father back, I want Gabriel and Lucifer and I want us all to be _happy_. Why can't it be like that anymore? Why do they all leave?" Castiel looks down and inhales softly as his brother's broken voice and withering essence fills his senses. "I don't know what else to do." Seraphiel's hands clench and unclench as he stands there. The sun above them dims a little. Castiel sighs.

"Seraphiel –"

"Leave."

Castiel knows an order when he hears one. He glances up at his brother before vanishing. Seraphiel dips his head and breathes out a word that is carried away on the breeze.

"_Iad."_

He crosses his arms over his chest and he prays, because that is what he was created to do and it is all he knows.

Inside the hotel Castiel watches as Dean and Sam try to mend their broken bond and he knows that Michael is wrong.

* * *

**So, angels really have one screwed up family. I'm going to try and make the next chapter a little lighter. Possibly. Don't forget to tell me what you think!**


	11. Sympathy for the devil

**As always, thanks to everyone who has supported this story! And I couldn't really think of anything else for the title...I apologize for my lack of originality.**

* * *

Seraphiel sits alone on the edge of the hotel's roof, staring down at the human shaped dots scurrying around below him with dispassionate eyes. How do they do it? How do they move with such purpose when their lives ultimately mean nothing? The lifespan of a human is so miniscule to an angel; it could be easily compared to taking a nap. Once you realize you had fallen asleep, another human dies. And life moves on. It's just the way things are. So how do they do it?

The angel brings his gaze skyward, wondering what state his home is in. It has to be hectic. God is gone, orders that aren't from the right angels are being carried out, and more of his brethren are rebelling. Some kind of feeling begins to make itself known to Seraphiel, a feeling that weighs heavily on his chest and in his body. He doesn't know what to call it, but he does not find it pleasant. He thinks about Heaven in order to try and make the feeling go away, but it only gets stronger and it feels as if some unseen force is trying to suffocate him. Growling softly, Seraphiel leaves his perch and appears next to Dean on the very comfortable sofa in the main room of the suite. The hunter jumps to the side, letting out a surprised yelp. He clutches at his chest and glares at the angel, "What the hell? Don't do that!"

Seraphiel says nothing. He stares blankly at the widescreen tv, his posture a little slumped. A frown tugs at Dean's lips as he stares at the tired looking angel. "What's wrong with you? Why are you acting like that?" Seraphiel doesn't respond for a while. Just as Dean is about to give up on receiving an answer, the angel speaks.

"I don't understand how you do it."

Dean picks up on the fact that Seraphiel isn't just talking about him.

"You rush through your lives trying to accomplish things that don't have any value at all, not really. Yet they matter to you. Some things matter enough to die for. I don't get it." Seraphiel turns to look at Dean, and he finds it easier to hold eye contact with the angel when he's wearing the contacts. But they seem unusually dull, like someone's covered them with a veil. "How do you move with such purpose? How do you even find purpose when there is so much pain and confusion surrounding you?"

Silence fills the room, Seraphiel's words hanging in the air. Dean wasn't expecting that to come out of the angel's mouth. Smiling uncertainly, Dean scratches at the back of his head.

"Well, it's nice to know what you think of us humans, huh?" Dean's smile wavers and fades as he takes in the flat expression on the angel's face. "This is really bothering you, isn't it?" Seraphiel doesn't respond as he stares at Dean. The hunter sighs. "Listen, I don't know if I can speak for all of humanity, but we're not all as sure as you think we are. We really don't know a whole lot. Damn near next to nothing. But we have things that we care about. Sports, music, things like that. It helps."

Seraphiel seems to be taking in Dean's words as he sits quietly.

"And I know we must seem like little specks of dust compared to you, but we try to make the best of what we have. It's all we've got, you know?"

Seraphiel nods slowly. He still doesn't understand. But the awful feeling from before is gone so he straightens and looks around the room. "Where is Castiel?" Dean perks up at the blue eyed angel's name.

"Um, I'm not sure exactly. But I wouldn't be too worried, Cas can handle himself. Right?"

Seraphiel smiles faintly. "Yes." He pauses and tilts his head curiously. "Why don't you call him by his name?"

"I do call him by his name. Cas."

"But that isn't his name."

"It is as far as I'm concerned."

"But God –"

"Look, God may have given him the name Castiel, but he isn't like that anymore. He's different. He's just Cas now."

The two stare at each other for a moment.

"I see," Seraphiel finally says. "You care for him deeply," he observes.

Dean stiffens a little.

"Well, yeah, the guy pulled me out of Hell."

Seraphiel notices that Dean is uncomfortable and decides that it is time for him to leave. Something else has come to his attention.

"Dean, I must go now."

"Why? Wait a – Damn. Sneaky bastards, all of them."

* * *

"This isn't working out anymore."

Sam's form is rigid as he eyes the demon in front of him. Ruby's grin fades at his words. She shakes her head once and frowns.

"What?"

Sam sighs and looks around the hallway of the hotel to make sure that they are alone.

"This…_thing_…between us. I'm calling it off. I don't need it anymore."

The demon laughs incredulously, "Sam, you're not strong enough. I thought you wanted to kill Lucifer, sweetie." Ruby slithers up close to Sam and attaches herself to him like an octopus. "You're almost there. You want to end all of this, don't you? Think about it." She loops an arm around his shoulders and scratches at the nape of his neck, smiling as a small shudder runs through his tall frame. "Dean won't have all of this weighing him down anymore. You can take the load off. You can end the apocalypse. But you need to be stronger, Sam. Then things can go back to normal. You could finish school, maybe Dean could settle down…" She trails off and watches as the gears turn in the younger Winchester's brain, her smile escalating to a grin when he hesitates, not looking as sure as before. Before she can swoop in for the kill, the most _terrifying _presence surfaces and it's coming right towards them.

"Sam, we have to go!"

Sam's brows furrow together and he drags his arm back from Ruby's grip.

"Sam! Come on, we can't stay here!"

Sam looks around the empty hallway and then back at Ruby. "What's gotten into you? We're safe here."

There's the sound of flapping wings – really fucking huge wings - as Seraphiel materializes beside Sam, who jerks at his sudden appearance. The angel is focused entirely on Ruby, and Sam finally figures out what's going to happen too late.

"Sam is safe. You, however, won't be around much longer."

Ruby's eyes flip to black and she hisses, drawing away. Seraphiel steps toward her and Sam can't figure out if he wants to intervene or not. He does notice that something seems off about the angel. His body language seems a little subdued, but they way he's looking at Ruby suggests otherwise. It could just be that Seraphiel still hasn't gotten used to moving around in a human body. But when are things ever that easy?

"I believe Sam told you he does not wish to associate himself with the likes of you any longer. If you value your life, I suggest you leave. Now." Seraphiel's gaze is hard and unrelenting and Sam reigns in a little of the confidence he had lost with the angel's sound stature. He moves to stand beside the angel and they both stare down the unwelcome demon. Ruby glares back and forth between the two. With a small huff she turns on her heels and stalks away, but not before calling out, "You'll be back, Sam! You always come back."

Sam clenches his jaw as he stares after the demon.

"Would you like for me to pursue her?"

Sam turns his head to look at the angel. Seraphiel is watching Ruby's retreat intently with all the focus of a wolf on a hunt. The angel turns to give Sam a meaningful look. The youngest Winchester realizes the added weight to Seraphiel's question and he's taken by surprise.

He's been given a choice.

Sam bites his lip. He does want to end all of this, but what would that price be? Becoming the thing that he hunts? And should the price even matter if he has a chance to stop the apocalypse for good? Dean would be safe…everyone would be safe. That should be more than enough reason to stay with Ruby and do what he's been doing. But on the other hand, he doesn't want to keep hurting Dean, and that's all he's been doing as of late. He doesn't think he'll ever forgive himself for what happened with Castiel. He thought he had lost both Dean and Castiel for good. But now, he has a chance to salvage whatever is left of his relationship with Dean. It is strained, and Sam isn't sure if they can ever be what they once were. He really doubts it.

Sam's head is pounding as these thoughts race through his mind and he squeezes his eyes shut as he gulps in a breath of air and holds it. Then he lets it out in a rush and pinches the bridge of his nose.

"Sam?"

The hunter looks down, murmuring a quiet, "Yes."

The seraph is gone not a second later. Sam stands alone in the hallway, choosing not to think about what Seraphiel is going to do to Ruby. After a minute the angel returns, and this time Sam does not startle. The two simply stand there for a moment. Then Seraphiel turns to Sam and offers a small, genuine smile.

"I am glad you have chosen this path, Sam. If you had waited any longer I would have been forced to destroy you."

Sam tries his best not to react to that. Instead he turns his attention to a very sudden and very important discovery.

"Hey, I'm taller than you."

Seraphiel frowns and continues to stare at Sam blankly.

"And this…amuses you?" The angel seems mildly confused.

"Yes. Yes it does."

They begin to walk back towards their room. Once they are in front of the door, they both pause at the sound of Dean's voice carrying through the wood. The suite is large, so the only place he can be where he can still be heard from outside is the kitchen area.

"Come on, Cas. I promise it'll be good."

Sam's mouth drops a little, already fearing the worse. Dean wouldn't…

"Cas. You have to. Once you start you'll never want to stop."

_Oh God._

"I don't want to, Dean. It looks…sticky. How do I even hold it?"

Sam turns to look at Seraphiel, who looks like he doesn't have a clue with what's going on. Sam decides that it's for the better.

"Jeez, just put your hand like this…yeah, good, now hold it like that. Perfect."

Sam is practically having a heart attack. He cannot believe this is happening. Should he go in there? Out of the corner of his eye he sees Seraphiel reach for the door handle. Sam's hand flashes out and grabs the angel by the wrist.

"Don't," he whispers. At the confused stare he receives Sam lets go.

"Why are you whispering?" Seraphiel's voice is lowered, and Sam is grateful for the fact that he and Castiel are very different. The other angel wouldn't have had the sense to whisper. Sam doesn't mean any disrespect, but Castiel is definitely lacking in some aspects that pertain to certain situations. Like being quiet while eavesdropping. Sam places a finger in front of his mouth and Seraphiel frowns, but he seems to understand. They both focus on Dean's voice.

"Don't just lick at it like that; put the whole thing in your mouth and swallow."

Sam chokes on his breath and wrenches open the door. He rushes into the kitchen area.

"Dean, no! Cas, don't do it!"

Sam stops to stare at the angel and human, who are sitting at a table. A plate with a piece of cherry pie sits on the wooden surface. Castiel is frozen with his hand in the air, holding a piece of the dessert to his mouth with a fork. Dean is staring open mouthed at Sam, who has the same expression on his face. Seraphiel calmly walks into the room and sweeps his gaze over its occupants.

_Silly humans._

Castiel lowers the pie back onto the plate and Dean groans.

"Sammy, I almost had him. Why'd you do that?"

"Er…" Sam looks extremely uncomfortable. Dean suspects there is only one reason.

"Sam! I can't believe you! You thought I – Man, what's the matter with you? He's an angel, dude!"

Sam's eyes are wide as his mouth opens and closes without producing any sounds. He finally sighs and leaves, Dean hot on his heels.

"Seriously…"

Dean's voice fades as the two disappear into another part of the suite, leaving the angels thoroughly confused.

"What…was that about?" Castiel asks, pushing the uneaten slice of pie away.

Seraphiel shakes his head.

"Humans."

* * *

After another day of doing absolutely nothing (which kind of pissed Seraphiel off a bit; Lucifer was still out there after all), the small group decided to get moving. Seraphiel refused to ride in the Impala so it was decided that the angels would go do angel things until Dean called with the location they were staying at. This seemed to work fine and all was relatively normal. And normal was not good, because that meant that things were quiet, and that meant that something big was about to happen.

"Yeah, Indiana. Okay –"

Dean turns around and bumps into Castiel.

"Hello, Dean."

"Hi, Cas."

They hang up their phones. Dean steps back so Castiel isn't all up in his personal space and ends up bumping into a wall. He turns and realizes that it's Seraphiel. Dean huffs stalks into the diner, grumbling to himself.

"Goddamn angels..."

The diner is a quaint little place, homey and filled with bustling customers. Dean and Sam are thankful for that. It makes their odd group that much more forgettable.

A blond waitress walks over to their booth, smiling at all of them. She catches Dean's eye and he winks at her, grinning when she twirls a curl of her hair around her pen.

"What can I get you boys?"

As the humans order their food, Seraphiel turns to Castiel, who is seated beside him. The other angel is staring out the window.

"What are you looking for?"

Castiel shakes his head once, still staring.

"Lucifer must know that we are looking for him. Why hasn't he done anything about it? He must be planning something."

Castiel waits for Seraphiel's answer. When he doesn't respond, Castiel turns toward his brother. Seraphiel is unmoving, staring at Castiel with eyes that can't see. Turning to Dean and Sam, Castiel sees that they are in the same state, frozen in time. All movement in the entire diner has stopped and it is eerily quiet. Castiel frowns and in the blink of an eye he is standing in the middle of the diner. A presence behind the angel startles him and he whips around, eyes narrowing dangerously at the figure before him.

"Lucifer."

The fallen angel stands a few feet away from Castiel, a bored expression on his face.

"I heard you were looking for me. I thought I'd come by and…say hello."

Castiel steps back a little, hands clenched tightly at his sides.

"Who told you we were here?"

Lucifer shrugs. "A little birdie. But enough of this small talk." Lucifer is standing next to the unmoving form of Seraphiel suddenly. He stares down at his younger brother, an unreadable expression on his face. Behind him he feels Castiel shift position. Lucifer waves his hand and Castiel finds that he can't physically move himself. He is at the devil's mercy.

"Seraphiel…I never thought I'd see him out of Heaven. He must be desperate." He reaches out his hand and runs it down the side of Seraphiel's face.

"Don't touch him," Castiel snarls. A small breath of amusement from Lucifer is all the reaction Castiel gets.

"You know," Lucifer starts, "Seraphiel and I were very close, back before…_them._" He jerks his head towards the Winchesters. "Before humans. We practically did everything together. I even taught him how to sing. I taught him everything." He drops his hand and faces Castiel, and if this weren't the devil himself, Castiel would say that he looks a little...sad. But he is the devil, and he is damn well the best at evoking sympathy from others.

"Seraphiel is nothing like you. He is a better angel than you could have ever hoped to have been." Castiel is glaring daggers at Lucifer, and the elder angel briefly wonders where this little brother of his has learned to ignore the threat of death in favor of poking at it with a stick.

"Ouch. Harsh, Castiel. But everyone knows that I was the little star of the bunch. Gabriel knew it, Michael knew it too. But that didn't matter, not when it came down to those humans. I loved Father, and I was cast out for it."

Castiel wants so badly to just be able to move, but he settles on taking his frustration out on Lucifer.

"You abandoned Heaven! You turned your back on us!"

A snarl forms on the Morning Star's face and the lights in the diner flicker at the anger Lucifer is exuding.

"I did not abandon Heaven! Heaven abandoned me! I was a good son, I loved my Father with all that I am, and look what happened. _Look _at me."

Castiel can't look away, even if he wanted to. Instead he studies Lucifer's vessel. It is apparent that his body is wearing thin. It will not be long before another vessel will need to be taken. Castiel's eyes wander up to Lucifer's face, and he immediately wishes that he hadn't done so. His face…it isn't supposed to look like that. The emotion doesn't belong there, because it's the goddamn devil and he's not supposed to feel despair so deep that it threatens to drown the world. It's wrong, everything about it is _wrong. _

"I…I _loved _Michael. He was my big brother. And when Father made those little hairless apes, I was appalled when He asked us to _bow _to them. I refused because I loved God too much to give myself to these flawed creatures. So I went to Michael and I begged for him to see my side, to hear me out. And you know what he did? He betrayed me. He held me down and he ripped my wings _apart_. I couldn't stop him, I screamed for him to stop but he kept going. Do have any idea how it feels to have your wings torn out like that? The pain is incomparable. And as I laid there with the sight of my bloody wings in front of me, Michael crouched down beside me and he told me something. He told me that I was an abomination, and then he threw me out like a bag of garbage."

Castiel is honestly too stunned to speak. He knew what had happened between the two brothers, but it was never told like that. And he knows the story has to be skewed because this is exactly what the devil does. He manipulates and he lies. Castiel repeats this over and over again until he feels he can speak with enough strength.

"I do not care about your fall, Lucifer. You will not take Sam Winchester and you will not win this war. Seraphiel and I will make sure of it." Castiel is determined, and Lucifer can admire that. He is determined too.

"We'll see about that." Lucifer turns to Seraphiel. "Castiel, tell him that the next time we meet will be the last. I will kill him if he gets in my way."

The diner erupts into a cacophony of sounds as life moves on. Lucifer is gone.

* * *

**Okay, show of hands, who would want this to turn out to be a slash fic between Cas and Dean? It was mentioned to me and I never really thought of it when I started this story. But I never thought I'd have eleven chapters, so why the hell not? I want some honest feedback because this story is as equally as important to me as it is to you. So, what do you think?**


	12. Eye of the tornado

Everything in the diner carries on as usual and no one would suspect that the devil was even there. Everyone except Seraphiel. He has that feeling, the strange sensation of time being altered and he knows his elder brother was there. His eyes catch Dean's, and he can tell that the human realizes that something isn't right also. Seraphiel turns to Castiel, who is sitting rigidly in his seat, tight lipped and tense.

"Sam, Dean, Castiel and I must discuss something. We'll be back."

Before either of the brothers can react the angels are gone.

* * *

"What did he say to you?"

Seraphiel has transported them to a place of worship. A monastery, to be exact, located in Tibet. The beautifully carved building is dark and empty. Moonlight passes through the windows to cast shadows along the floor and walls. It is a serene setting, and Castiel is glad that Seraphiel selected this place.

"He told me what happened between Michael and himself."

Seraphiel stiffens slightly, and the air in the room shifts as Seraphiel's wings unfurl a little, the dark shadows of the large appendages spreading out into the air.

"He said that Michael betrayed him."

Seraphiel takes his time with his response, choosing his words carefully.

"Michael was doing what was right for Heaven. Lucifer was a threat to our home; he had to be…taken care of. I understand how he would see Michael's act as a betrayal. Michael didn't have to be that violent, but Lucifer would not quit if drastic measures were not taken. It was hard to watch, but it was the right thing to do."

Castiel nods and adds, "He also said that he would kill you if you cross each other's paths."

Seraphiel's gaze drops, his jaw clenching tightly.

_This will not end well for you._

Michael's foreboding words seem to echo within the monastery and Seraphiel realizes that Michael saw this would happen. The archangel knew that he would try and save what is left of their family, no matter what.

Seraphiel looks into Castiel's bright eyes and gives him a small smile.

"Do not worry about me, brother. I will help you and the Winchesters for as long as I am able."

* * *

Castiel fills Sam and Dean in on what happened in the diner while sitting in the backseat of the Impala. They are headed towards their motel room after only ten minutes at the diner, which consisted of them eating their food as fast as possible. Dean wanted to get out of there quickly because something was really bothering him about the place. He is glad to find out that his feelings were accurate.

"Wait, so Michael ripped out Lucifer's wings? That has to hurt like a bitch, right?" Dean alternates between looking at the road and the angel sitting in the back, a dangerous gleam in his eyes. He's excited; he supposes it's from the thought of finally encountering Lucifer, even if he didn't himself. Cas was close enough. And Dean has wanted to gank that son of a bitch for a while now, so now that the trail is fresh he's ready to go.

"Yes. An angel's wings are extremely sensitive. I can't imagine the pain of having them stripped away like that."

Dean remembers the sight of Castiel lying on that shitty motel room floor and he clutches the steering wheel tighter until his knuckles are white. He can see the angel's tattered and bloody wings as if all of it happened yesterday. He has to remind himself that Cas is better now. He has his grace back and he seems as happy as an angel can get during the apocalypse. And if Cas is happy, then Dean is happy. Nothing much to it.

"Well, good thing you don't have to. We'll kill anything that tries to do that to you, won't we Sam?"

Sam is staring out the window, his expression tight. Dean snaps his fingers.

"Sam. Earth to geek boy."

Sam blinks himself back to awareness and looks at Dean.

"Yeah…" He turns back to stare out the window. Dean looks in the mirror to catch Cas' eyes, only to find him gone. Slightly annoyed at the angel's abrupt exit, Dean flexes his hands against the steering wheel and the Winchesters continue their drive in silence.

They stop at the next gas station and Sam goes to get snacks while Dean fills up the Impala. Seraphiel appears beside him while he's pumping the gas and nearly gives Dean a heart attack.

"Damn it! Quit doing that!"

A hint of amusement enters Seraphiel's eyes as he looks at Dean.

"I apologize."

"You better." Dean finishes up with the gas and turns his attention to the angel, who is staring at the people around them filling up their cars.

Having Seraphiel around is the equivalent of owning a rottweiler. He is large and intimidating and he scares away people without ever being aware of it, whether it's by the way he assesses anything that breathes around the Winchesters to see if it is a threat or by the intense way he stares at everything.

Every. Single. Thing.

Little kids eating ice cream. Susie walking her dog. Stan the mailman. Dean swears he saw the angel watching paint dry once.

He doesn't fit into their group as seamlessly as Castiel did. They're still getting used to each other. And honestly, sometimes Dean gets the feeling that Seraphiel would rather be somewhere else a lot of the time. Which is why he is surprised at the angel's next question.

"Do you mind if I join you and Sam?"

Dean pauses in surprise.

"Dean, they're out of…Seraphiel, hey." Sam walks up to them, arms full of chips and candy. "They didn't have anymore M&Ms, Dean." The elder Winchester frowns and nabs a bag of Doritos out of Sam's freakishly long arms.

"Whatever. The angel's gonna hang with us for a while." Dean looks at Seraphiel over his shoulder. "Get in the back."

Seraphiel hesitates for a few seconds before he gets in the Impala slowly. Once inside he shifts uncomfortably as he looks around the vehicle. Surprisingly, it's rather clean in the back. This doesn't matter to Seraphiel because even if it were dirty, it would still be a small place to be confined in. Usually Seraphiel keeps his wings out, using his grace to conceal them so humans can't see them. They're just apart of the air, shifting and moving as each breath of wind hits them. But this contraption forces him to fold them into his vessel and it's an unsettling feeling. He's still not used to suppressing himself.

"You okay back there?"

Dean is looking at him from the mirror. Seraphiel nods.

"Okay then. Off to…where are we going again?"

Sam rolls his eyes. "Ohio, Dean. The witch? Ring a bell?"

"Right." Dean starts up the car and peels out of the gas station.

After about ten minutes of hearing Seraphiel squirming around on the backseat Dean has had enough.

"What's your problem? Sit still, okay?'

Seraphiel throws an annoyed glare in Dean's direction but he stills himself regardless. This state of motionlessness lasts for about a minute before the angel sighs and scoots up to the edge of the seat, rolling his shoulders.

"Seriously, you need to stop with all that moving back there. It's pissing me off…" The last bit is muttered, but Seraphiel hears it and he kicks the back of Dean's seat. The hunter makes a sound of shocked indignation.

"Hey! Do that to my baby again and I'll kick your ass!"

"Dean!"

Sam shoves at his brother's shoulder.

"What? Did you see what he did? He kicked my car!"

"I'm sure he didn't mean it, right?" Sam looks pointedly at the angel sitting with his arms crossed in the back. Seraphiel gives Sam a withering look and promptly turns his head to stare out the window. Sam sighs and sags in his seat. These two will be the death of him. Thankfully the next thirty minutes or so is in silence.

"Hey, Cas!"

Dean's enthusiastic voice at Castiel's appearance dashes Sam's hope of a peaceful ride.

"Hello, Dean. You and Sam need to get rid of your necklaces Seraphiel gave you. If he and I can track them, so can other angels."

Dean uses one hand to remove his necklace and he hands it to Sam, who rolls down his window and throws them out.

"Why are you looking for a witch? You should be looking for a way to stop Lucifer," Seraphiel questions. Dean narrows his eyes and catches the angel's eyes in the mirror.

"Well if you have any ideas, be sure to tell us. And quit all of that goddamn moving!"

Seraphiel kicks Dean's seat again.

"Do not say my Father's name in vain."

Dean snorts, but wisely chooses to keep his mouth shut. Seraphiel settles back into the seat a little bit.

"I do not believe Lucifer will strike any time soon. It seems he is preparing for something," Castiel says after a few minutes of silence.

"For what? He has Detroit, what else does he need?" asks Sam.

Castiel shrugs, "I'm not sure. Maybe he is building up extra forces."

"No."

The Impala is thrust into silence at Seraphiel's interjection. The angel looks gravely serious as he straightens a little in his seat.

"I know Lucifer. He already has everything he needs. Except Sam."

Both Winchesters exchange glances.

"The only reason why he would show himself to us is because he is getting impatient. He will focus all of attention on you now, Sam. He can't hurt you physically, but he will invade your dreams and do everything in his power in order to get you to say yes. And you will, eventually. Which is why we must stop him now."

Dean's stare is hard as he focuses on the road ahead of him. "How the hell are we going to do that? The colt didn't work. We don't have anything to kill him with. If we go now we'll be sitting ducks."

"I'll do it."

Sam is silent. Dean forces out a bitter laugh and Castiel simply stares at Seraphiel.

"How are you going to do that? He's a lot stronger than you, isn't he?" Dean says.

"That does not matter. I just need something to distract him with long enough for me to prepare myself."

"Seraphiel," Castiel begins, "I don't think this is a good idea. There has –"

"There is no other way! Lucifer will destroy everything in sight until there's nothing left and he _won't stop. _Castiel, you must let me do this."

Sam notices the way Seraphiel is staring at Cas and it strikes something deep within him, something raw and scarred. Once he realizes the familiarity of the situation Sam's blood runs cold and he feels an unpleasant sensation of something latching onto his lungs and _squeezing. _

That's how Dean looked when he was on his way to Hell. When he told Sam to let him die.

Dean must have picked up on that too because the Impala pulls off sharply to the side of the road and the angels are looking at each other with mirrored expressions of confusion as Dean shuts the car off and sits rigidly in his seat. No one speaks. Then Dean turns and pins Seraphiel with the scariest fucking glare Sam has seen in his entire lifetime. Both of the angels are wide eyed as they stare into the enraged green orbs of Dean Winchester, and the same idea is running through both of their minds.

_Holy shit, _Dean looks a lot like Michael when he's angry.

Castiel scoots sideways on the seat until he's behind Dean's chair and out of the hunter's view, leaving Seraphiel to take the brunt of the Winchester's angry glare.

"Listen here, you feather brained, dick faced son of a bitch. Whether you like it or not, you're apart of our little team now. And that means you don't get to go around sacrificing yourself without clearing it through with the rest of us first. So no more of this solo flying shit you've got going on, alright Seph?"

Dean takes Seraphiel's silence as a yes.

"Okay then. We're going to Ohio and we're going to hunt that witch down because we need to do something semi-normal or my head is going to explode. Then we're going to lay low and plan this whole thing out because I'm not having anyone dying. Everybody clear? Good."

Dean starts the Impala up again and the ride to Ohio is in complete silence.

* * *

Sighing wearily, Dean collapses on the motel bed, ignoring the way a spring digs into his back. He scoots up the bed until his entire body is lying spread eagled on the scratchy comforter. A small breath of contentment escapes his lips as he closes his eyes, happy to be alone. He just got done interviewing a woman connected with the witch. She truly had no idea of what's going on so Dean got off a bit easy. Dean guesses that Sam will be gone for at least a half hour or so. Seraphiel disappeared as soon as they stepped in the room. And Castiel…Dean is pretty sure Castiel is standing at the foot of his bed. The hunter raises his head and smirks when he sees that the angel is in fact standing there staring at him.

"Hey, Cas," Dean greets.

"Hello, Dean." Cas continues to stand there and stare so Dean's head flops back down on the pillow.

"You know, I really wasn't expecting Seph to actually listen to me back there. I was thinking I'd explode into a ball of fire or some crazy shit like that." Dean's tone is conversational, and Castiel is glad for the chance of a normal conversation without it being wieghed down by the looming presence of the apocalypse.

"Well, you bear a great resemblance to Michael when you are angry, Dean. And I have come to understand that Seraphiel severely detests being reprimanded by Michael. I think everyone does, actually."

Dean's head shoots up and his expression is one of offense.

"I am not like that winged asshole! He's a…a…"

"Dick?" Castiel offers.

"Yeah! Yeah he – Hey! You said a bad word. Can't you get in trouble for that?"

Castiel flashes a half smile but it looks wrong, strained, and he shakes his head.

"I don't think God is listening to any of us right now."

Something plummets to the bottom of Dean's stomach at the forlorn tone in the angel's voice. He scoots up to rest his back against the headboard in order to better communicate with his friend.

"Listen, Cas, I know you must be feeling pretty bad about God and all that, but you can't let it get you down like this. After all, you've got me!" Dean grins cheekily and laughs at Castiel's doubtful expression.

"I do not know why you are laughing, Dean. I don't find my Father's absence amusing."

Dean stops laughing and points a finger at the angel.

"You need to lighten up, buddy. It's okay to laugh every once in a while."

"I doubt I can do that. The world as we know it may end at any time."

Castiel says this so gravely, so freaking seriously and an image of the Joker of all things pops into Dean's head. Chuckling quietly Dean mutters, "Why so serious," to himself, earning a confused head tilt and narrowed blue eyes from Castiel.

"Sorry? What did you say?"

Dean clears his throat and says again, "Why so serious."

Castiel stares at Dean blankly, briefly wondering if he is intoxicated. However, he does not smell of alcohol so the angel files this under 'typical Dean-like behavior' for future reference.

"I'm guessing you've never seen The Dark Knight."

Castiel continues to stare.

"Of course you haven't." Dean sighs and swings his legs over the bed, hoisting himself to his feet and moving over to his duffel bag. He rifles through it for a few seconds before he straightens and holds out the item triumphantly for Castiel to see. The angel steps forward, head cocked in curiosity at the object in Dean's hand.

"This," Dean gestures towards the DVD, "This is pure genius. Best movie ever. And we're going to watch it. Right now."

Castiel's brows knit together as the hunter bustles about the room, pulling out his DVD player from his duffle bag and hooking it up to the television. He pops in the movie and returns to his duffle bag. This time it takes him a little longer to find what he needs. A bag of popcorn. With the snack in hand Dean moves into the kitchen and tosses it into the microwave, waiting impatiently while the popping noises filled the room. When it's done Dean grabs a bowl and shakes the contents of the bag into it. On his return to the bed he snatches the remote and settles himself into his position from earlier on the slightly lumpy mattress. Castiel watches this all with unblinking eyes.

"Don't just stand there Cas, come on." Dean scoots over pats the spot next to him.

Castiel doesn't move.

"Cas. Come here."

The angel steps towards the side of the bed.

"Yeah. Take off your coat and shoes, too. I don't see how you keep all of that on all the time."

Dean shoves a handful of popcorn in his mouth and crunches away as he watches Castiel toe off his shoes and slip off his coat. The angel pauses briefly and then shrugs out of his suit jacket. Dean nods appreciatively at him.

"Good. Now come on, I wanna watch the movie."

Castiel sighs and climbs into the bed with Dean, his shoulder lightly brushing the hunter's. Dean flashes him a quick grin and starts the movie. About ten minutes pass before Dean feels the angel relax beside him. Without really thinking about it Dean holds out the popcorn bowl for Cas. Surprisingly the angel reaches out a hand and grabs a little and pops some in his mouth, cobalt blue eyes glued to the tv.

Halfway into the movie Dean's breathing evens out and his head drops onto Castiel's shoulder. Castiel touches the Winchester's forehead gently to ensure that he gets the most out of his slumber. Turning his attention back to the movie, Castiel can't recall the last time he's felt so at peace. It is at times like these where he truly sees humanity for the beautiful thing that it is. And he owes that all to the man sleeping next to him. Smiling to himself, Castiel grabs the last of the popcorn and munches thoughtfully.

Maybe Dean is all he needs after all.

* * *

**Wow...you all have very strong opinions! It's always interesting to know what the people who read my stories like. And I thought about Cas and Dean's relationship, and I figured that what they have is very different. So they're just going to be...Cas and Dean. Nothing heavy or complicated, just an angel and a man who share a very high level of understanding with each other. I think it will fit the story better without taking anything away from it. So I guess this could be considered as very fluffy slash? Or a bromance kind of thing. I don't know and I don't really care, I'm not into labels anyway.**

**Now, things are going to pick up a little! I feel like there was too much down time in this chapter. And while the boys do need their rest, I like a bit of action thrown in there. :)**


	13. Wheel in the sky

**Thanks to all for the continued support!**

* * *

_The pain is unbearable, shooting up my spine and branching out into my limbs, leaving a fiery trail of hurt that makes my head spin. My eyes are burning, trails of lava spilling out of them and raining down onto the black earth. Someone's screaming; it's so _**loud**_- the pain spikes and the screams turn into horrible wails that send chills down my spine. I'm being ripped apart from the inside out, and I just want it to stop. Why won't it stop? I'm begging and pleading but no relief is given to me. It _**hurts**_. I turn my head away from the desolation and carnage and see the devil glaring back at me, his mouth curled into a sinister grin, eyes boring into mine, filled with malicious intent. Everything inside of me is burning and the anguished screams still haven't ceased once. _

_Delirious from the pain, I finally realize that the horrible sounds are coming from me. _

_Something inside of me snaps and I'm surrounded by a scorching heat that churns my insides and gnaws at my throat. The pain is so agonizing I end up screaming your name over and over again, praying that you'd come and save me._

_It hurts so bad, ripping through my veins and leaving them open and torn so much blood oozing black out of my eyes my soul Sam where are you it hurts I need you Sam they're hurting me I'm dying… _

_Sammy?_

_I want to go home now._

Dean awakens with a choked gasp, coated in a thin sheen of sweat, panting as if he has just finished a marathon. Something grabs his arm and he jerks backwards with a hoarse yell. He looses his balance and tumbles to the floor. He sits there with wide eyes, clutching his chest and breathing harshly. His pupils are blown wide and his gaze darts about the room, following some unseen thing he's zeroed in on. When a hand rests on his shoulder Dean shrugs it off and shakes his head, eyes staring ahead at something that can't be there. The sensation of being shaken registers sluggishly and Dean startles a little, finally tearing his eyes away from whatever he was looking at before to a foggy figure before him. There's something familiar about it…

Dean blinks. Two very blue eyes come into focus and Dean blinks again. He knows those eyes…

"…Cas?"

Like a veil is being lifted, the rest of Castiel's face comes into view. The angel looks panicked, more than Dean has seen him in a while. He reaches out a hand and rests it on Dean's shoulder again, only this time Dean allows the contact. The hunter feels his pulse calming slightly and the heat from before seems to have faded from the room.

"Dean. What did you see?"

Dean shakes his head again, lips pressed together firmly. There is no way he's thinking about this right now.

"Dean, you must tell me. You shouldn't have had a nightmare, I made sure of that."

Castiel pauses, and then his mouth parts slightly. "Unless it was –"

The door slams open. Dean startles badly at the noise and Castiel is up and in front of him in less than a second, his posture relaxing when he realizes that it's just Sam. The younger Winchester looks slightly harassed and out of breath. A smudge of mud is on his cheek and his hair is wet. Castiel looks down at Dean, who seems to have pulled himself together. He stands up and Sam's eyebrow arches.

"What were you doing on the floor, Dean?"

Dean shrugs.

"I fell off the bed. Why the hell are you so late?"

Sam huffs and adopts bitchface number...seven. Seven and twelve are awfully close, but the difference is the way he scrunches up his eyebrows and how his lip curls. Dean prefers twelve to be honest.

"I found the witch. And before I could do anything, she poofed me to some swampy looking place and I had to walk all the way back! And of course she was long gone, so I had to go clean myself off first because I knew you'd kill me if I got the Impala dirty-"

"Damn straight," Dean interjects.

"-and then I realized that I lost the keys and I had to retrace my steps! And the whole time, you were here sleeping? What the hell?"

Dean opens his mouth to speak but Seraphiel pops in with a strong gust of wind, knocking a picture off the wall and shattering it. The angel waves his hand absently and the picture is restored.

"I disposed of the witch."

Sam's jaw drops a little and Seraphiel is introduced to bitchface no. 23.

"You mean I did all of that work for nothing?" Sam groans and collapses into a chair. "I can't believe this!"

Seraphiel crosses his arms tightly across his chest, his expression extremely agitated.

"I did what you wanted; the witch is gone. Why are you angry with me?" he demands.

"It isn't just about killing the baddies, Seph. We needed something normal to do and you kinda screwed it up," Dean says, scrubbing a hand across his face. Castiel is still looking at the hunter with a small trace of concern. "No offense, but because of you this little trip was pointless," Dean finishes.

Seraphiel glares at Dean, clearly offended.

"I do not know why you humans have to make everything so complicated," he snaps and then he vanishes before their eyes. Another groan issues forth from Sam.

"All that for nothing…"

Castiel looks away from the sight of Sam moping and turns to Dean, who seems to be fairing better since his…episode.

"What do we do now, Dean?"

The hunter sighs wearily.

"I don't know, Cas. I honestly don't know."

* * *

Seraphiel hasn't gone far. He is sitting in the backseat of the Impala parked near the Winchester's room. The angel doesn't understand it, but the idea of straying far from the brothers right now unsettles him, especially with Lucifer's presence looming over them. And he has no idea why he has chosen the Impala to ponder all of this in the first place. Seraphiel still finds the space confining and the act of binding his wings highly annoying and uncomfortable, but being here just…feels right. Almost familiar.

That fact bothers him more than he will admit.

And he can't be blamed for it, not really. Seraphiel is not a leader. He isn't even a warrior, not in the true sense. He would rather not fight, but that doesn't mean he won't smite whatever pisses him off into oblivion. The idea of being surrounded by his brothers and sisters in peace is far more appealing to him, but that was taken away when Lucifer rebelled. A part of Seraphiel hates his brother for shattering all that was dear to him. But revenge doesn't matter to him. He just wants things to return to how they were before.

He wants a family. He wants _his _family. And nothing but that will fill this horrible ache inside of him.

_My, my, my. A little overdramatic aren't we, little brother?_

Seraphiel jerks in alarm and his grace flares in response. A searing pain results from his reaction and Seraphiel suppresses his grace, his breathing shallow and uneven.

_Be careful, Seraphiel. We don't need to alert Castiel that I'm…around._

"Stay away, Lucifer," Seraphiel snaps tightly. His elder brother isn't anywhere near him or the Winchesters physically, but his presence is still unwelcome, even if it is just in Seraphiel's mind.

_Don't be so hostile, brother. I just want to talk. Like we used to. Remember?_

Every muscle in Seraphiel's body grows taut as he shifts on the leather seat.

_Of course you do. We used to be so close, Seraphiel. It would be a shame for me to kill you._

"Then why? Why do all of this? You betrayed Heaven, you betrayed _me. _I looked up to you and you turned your back on me." Seraphiel is stalling for time in the hopes that Castiel will notice something isn't right, but he is interested in Lucifer's answer.

_That should not concern you right now. I may not know your location, but I will find it. And when I do, I'm going to take Dean._

Dean?

_You see, I think you've grown rather fond of that human. He reminds you of a certain someone, doesn't he?_

"I don't know what you're talking about."

_No, I think you do. And I have to tell you, he is a poor substitute for what you need. And I always know what you need._

Seraphiel falls silent.

_Besides, Dean is my only way of getting little Sammy to let me in. I've been waiting for that a long time. And I'm so close._

Close?

"What are you planning?"

_I'm not telling you. That would ruin all the fun, wouldn't it? I'd be careful if I were you, Seraphiel._

All traces of Lucifer disappear. Seraphiel quickly returns to the Winchester's room to see Sam curled into a ball on the floor, Dean crouched down beside him.

"Sammy, what's wrong? Sam?" Dean's voice is laced with worry as he grabs at Sam's arm.

"Blood…demon blood," Sam wheezes out before he groans, shivering and folding into himself tighter. He's sweating now, and Dean gets the message.

They need to get to Bobby's.

* * *

Sam's screams are tearing Dean apart.

Every time Sam begs for his brother's help Dean bows his head and squeezes his eyes shut tightly, wishing with all that he is for it to just stop.

But it doesn't, and it never will.

This will go on forever because he doesn't deserve any better. He never gets what he wants because he isn't worth it. He isn't worth anything. He's a failure. He failed to keep Sammy safe. He broke the first seal. And even though Castiel is alive now, that two hour period where the angel was lying lifeless in front of him showed him how much of a fuck up he really is. He let Cas down, and he will never be able to forgive himself for that.

"Dean? Dean! You have to help me, it's so hot…"

Dean's fingernails are digging into his palms and he leans his head back against the wall next to the panic room's door. Sam is getting desperate.

"Jessica! No! Dean, where are you? Jess!"

It's been four days. Dean can't take anymore of this.

He pushes off the wall and shuffles up the stairs, the neck of a beer bottle clutched tightly in his hand. Bobby is at his desk leafing through a few books. His head lifts at Dean's appearance.

"Where you going, boy?"

Dean jerks his head towards the door.

"Outside. I'll be back in a bit."

Dean doesn't wait for Bobby's answer.

It's dark outside. The air is warm and slightly humid, just the way Dean hates it. The hunter makes his way down the steps and towards the graveyard of rusting cars, stopping short when he hears a voice in the distance. Upon arriving closer to the junkyard he makes out a figure sitting on the hood of one of the cars. Dean inches closer, his hand moving to the waistband of his jeans for his gun, making sure to keep himself hidden behind an old truck. After a moment he peeks around the truck's front.

It's Seraphiel.

The angel is leaning back with his hands on the car, gazing up at the sky. Moonlight illuminates the yard enough for Dean to see the despondent expression on Seraphiel's face as he stares up at the stars. Dean is about to go back into the house to give his friend some privacy before the voice from before returns. Dean's head whips back to Seraphiel because it's coming from him and holy shit, he's _singing__. _His head is tipped back to the expanse of sky above him and Dean is reminded of a wolf baying at the moon.

_I've been trying to make it home_

_Got to make it before too long_

_I can't take this very much longer, no_

Seraphiel's voice sounds nothing like Steve Perry's; it's deeper, softer, and there's a quality to it that Dean can't put into words. There's an indescribable sadness embedded in it, a desperate plea for something, _anything, _and Dean knows that angels aren't supposed to sound like this.

_I'm stranded in the sleet and rain_

_Don't know if I'm ever gonna make it home again_

_The morning sun is rising_

_It's kissing the day_

The angel's voice is carried away on the breeze and silence hangs heavily in the air. An intense feeling of loneliness overtakes Dean. His brother is hurting beyond belief, trapped inside of his own personal hell, and there's nothing Dean can do about it. Castiel is probably looking for God, and Seraphiel…Seraphiel is drifting away further and further each day.

"Dean."

The call of his name snaps Dean out of his thoughts.

"Come here. I wish to speak with you."

Dean steps out from behind the truck. Seraphiel is still staring at the sky, as if all the answers will make themselves known if he looks hard enough.

Dean comes to lean against the car, his back to Seraphiel. He takes another swig of his beer and looks up to the stars. The angel breaks the silence.

"Why do you torture yourself like this? All of this is not your fault, yet you take all of the blame. Do you really think this lowly of yourself after all you've done? After all you continue to do?"

Dean snorts.

"What about you, huh? I take it angels just don't go around singing Journey whenever they're feeling down."

Seraphiel smiles thinly and picks at a rusty spot on the car.

"I suppose you are right."

They both fall silent, each focused on the Heavens above them, lost in their own thoughts.

"Hey, Seph…"

Seraphiel turns his head to look at Dean. The hunter's head is tilted back as he stares at the moon.

"Yes, Dean?"

"What's Heaven like?"

Seraphiel stiffens a little, exhaling a small puff of breath. He closes his eyes and remembers the peaceful warmth of his home, the joyous voices of his siblings, the radiance of their Father and the purest of light that illuminates Heaven in a golden glow of harmony and happiness.

"It is beautiful, Dean. Beautiful in every way. Imagine having all of your father's love, every part of it, swelling inside of your soul until the end of time. You feel his love from the time you were born, from your first steps, and from when he used to tuck you in at night. It never dims. It grows stronger each day because in Heaven, a father's love is eternal. And all of it is because of you, and it's all for you."

Pressure is building up behind Dean's eyelids, but he stifles it and stares into the empty bottle in his hands.

"That uh…" He laughs humorlessly, "that sounds pretty awesome. Probably isn't for me though."

Dean tosses the bottle away and the shattering glass sounds like a bomb in the silence that follows Dean's statement.

"Dean. Look at me."

The hunter sighs and turns around, coming face to face with Seraphiel. The angel has his legs swung over the side of the car, his body angled forwards towards Dean.

"You are worthy of God's love. Don't ever doubt that." Seraphiel's voice is earnest as he stares into Dean's eyes with the utmost conviction in his gaze. "Do you know why I saved Castiel?"

Dean's mouth falls open.

"You…you brought Cas back? But I thought-"

"I heard your prayers, Dean. Do you think that I would have answered them if you were not worth it? Do you think I would be following you right now?"

Dean's throat is tight and he can't find the right words to respond.

"You are the only hope of ending this. It has to be you."

Why? Why does it have to be him? A bitter laugh escapes Dean as he turns around and scrubs a hand over his mouth.

"No. It isn't me. You're the powerful angel of the Lord here, why can't it be you? I'm just a broken down human. Nothing special."

Dean turns to Seraphiel to find the angel standing right in front of him. He notices that Seraphiel's contacts are gone as the golden eyes stare down at him in strong determination.

"It is you. You are linked to Michael, and therefore you are worthy to be followed. You are a protector and a savior. This is a war, and you, Dean Winchester, are a general."

Castiel appears before Dean can even think to respond.

"It's Lucifer, I don't know how but he's coming –"

A bright light envelops Dean and both the angels are thrown back as a powerful surge of power ripples through the air. Castiel is knocked into a tree but he's up immediately, and before Dean is taken away he surges forward and crashes into the hunter, latching onto his arm like he's pulling Dean out of Hell again, only this time he's going to pull him out of the grip of the devil himself. But Lucifer is strong and as they're speeding across the earth with Dean in tow Castiel realizes that if he doesn't release the hunter Dean will be ripped apart. So Castiel closes his eyes and he lets go. But as he falls back a red hot and vibrant light shoots past him and streaks toward Lucifer and Dean. The forces collide and then disappear.

Castiel's cry of rage splits a volcano in two and levels an entire forest.

* * *

He's on fire.

He must be, because everything is burning. His hair, his clothes, his skin, his _soul. _It feels as if he's on the rack again, being ripped apart and torn at mercilessly. But just as the pain peaks, it stops. The world is no longer a haze of angry reds and oranges. Dean cracks one eye open and finds himself on cold stone. He groans and rolls onto his back, staring up at the sky. The sun is hidden behind dark clouds. The air is light and crisp, and Dean realizes that he is really high up.

On a mountain, to be exact.

The tip of the mountain has been blown off completely, leaving a flattened arena like area in its wake.

Something is going down here. Dean can feel it.

He tries to move, but the worst kind of pain claws at Dean when he tries to roll over. He groans and settles on his back again.

"Dean, so good to see you."

Lucifer suddenly pops into Dean's line of vision, which means the fallen angel standing over him. Dean ignores his protesting body and rolls out of the way because there is no way he's facing the devil on his back. Shakily he makes it to his feet and stares Lucifer down, glaring defiantly. If this is how he's going to die, he won't do it without a fight. Unexpectedly, Lucifer pulls a small bottle out of his pocket.

"I have to be prepared, you know," Lucifer informs Dean, smiling pleasantly as if he is discussing last night's football game.

Dean can't see what Lucifer does next because there's a blinding flash of light and an angry shout ringing in his ears.

"Lucifer!"

The Morning Star turns around. Seraphiel is standing before him, his expression fierce and his entire body taut and ready for a fight. Lucifer shakes his head.

"Brother, back down. I do not want to kill you."

Seraphiel snarls in response and Lucifer bows his head, exhaling softly. When he looks up his expression is blank.

"If your wish is to die here, then so be it."

* * *

**Woo! Angel showdown! Who do you think will win?**

**And I was listening to Journey the other day because duh, they're amazing, and I wanted to share their awesomeness with you. I hoped you liked it! Oh, and I do not claim that song. It is the property of Journey.**


	14. Full circle

**Okay, for some reason I've been writing like a maniac and I couldn't wait to get this chapter up. I seriously could not wait another day, haha. This story is coming to a close though, just to give you a heads up. Despite that, I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

Dean is aware of a few facts at the moment. For one, he knows that the impending battle will end in death for either Seraphiel or Lucifer. He knows that his own life is danger as long as he's stranded with the two angels. He also knows that Castiel will show up because of this, and his life will be in danger also.

It brings a small amount of comfort to Dean to know that at least Sam is safe.

Dean has separated himself from the feuding angels as far as possible, but he can't escape them completely unless he's secretly a master rock climber. He sincerely doubts that, so he's decided on placing himself as close to the edge of the mountain as he dares. Even though the angels are just talking right now, sooner or later the gloves will come off and the shit will hit the fan.

"How did you find Dean?"

If Seraphiel is feeling any anticipation about facing his elder brother, he isn't letting it show. He's the perfect picture of calm as he stares down the devil, and Dean has to give him credit for that.

Lucifer chuckles softly, inclining his head at Seraphiel.

"You, brother. You can't hide from me, no matter how hard you try and cloak yourself. I know you, Seraphiel, and this is what will lead to your downfall."

Seraphiel doesn't show any outward reaction to Lucifer's statement. He simply stands in front of his brother, his expression neutral.

"But what I want to know is why you have chosen to follow these humans. You are the one that I would have least expected to come to the aid of the hairless apes. Your intent was to get Dean to say yes, was it not?"

The younger angel doesn't respond, but he glances at Dean, who is glaring daggers at him. Maybe he should have told Dean about his intentions beforehand. Seraphiel looks back to Lucifer and frowns, drawing himself up to his full height.

"Enough talk. If you want to kill me, go ahead and try."

Neither angel moves as the words hang in the air. Everything around them seems to be suspended in time as they stare each other down. Then Lucifer launches himself at Seraphiel and the battle begins.

Now, a certain fact must be made clear.

Dean Winchester does not hide.

What he does do is place himself strategically behind objects in order to preserve his well-being.

There is nothing sissy about that.

So from behind a large boulder created from the initial clash of the angels Dean watches the battle intently.

Keep in mind, he is not hiding.

Every time the angels collide into each other a sound louder than thunder is emitted and Dean swears that he can feel the mountain shake. The fight is fast and fierce, the two celestials moving far too quickly for Dean to keep up with. Sparks fly as they slam into each other, and more often than not Seraphiel is knocked back a few feet. But he doesn't let this slow him down; each time he's knocked back he pushes forward more strongly than the last, and for a moment it seems as if he has Lucifer on the run. But the elder angel pulls out a crude looking dagger and slashes Seraphiel's arm, leaving a long and ragged cut. The wound starts to bleed immediately, soaking Seraphiel's shirt. As his brother staggers Lucifer kicks him in the stomach and Seraphiel lands on his back, far too close to the edge for Dean's liking.

Seraphiel rolls over and makes his way to his feet, keeping his injured arm tucked against his side. He pulls out his sword and falls into a battle stance, still favoring his arm. Lucifer smirks and comes at him again. The sound of clashing metal echoes around the mountain as the angel's battle continues. Dean watches as Seraphiel performs a series of complicated looking maneuvers, only to have Lucifer counter each one and even land a few hits himself. Seraphiel is obviously growing more frustrated as the fight goes on. He moves faster, lashing out in harsh arcs that would have decapitated Lucifer if his brother hadn't evaded them. Feigning a kick aimed for Lucifer's abdomen, Seraphiel cuts across his opponent's side. A brief flash of light is produced by the cut and Lucifer growls in pained agitation.

"I advise you to surrender while I'm still feeling generous, brother," Lucifer warns as he observes his wound with a detached interest. When the cut heals Lucifer's attention is back to his sibling. In an amazing show of speed he appears in front of Seraphiel and grabs his injured arm, twisting it behind his back and forcing him down on his knees. Lucifer's dagger is at Seraphiel's throat instantaneously.

"Do you surrender, Seraphiel?"

Seraphiel responds by slamming his head back into Lucifer's face.

His older brother rears back and snarls. Seraphiel moves to get away but places weight on the arm injured earlier in order to rise. The limb gives out and Lucifer grabs his shoulder and spins him around, shoving him on his back onto the ground. Seraphiel struggles wildly, but he is unable to free himself from his brother's hold. Lucifer raises his blade high and Seraphiel is able to move just enough to where the muscle of his shoulder is hit instead of the area only a few inches below it, which is where his grace is housed. Nonetheless it hurts, more so than Seraphiel expects. Lucifer pulls out the dagger with a sickening squelching noise and prepares to strike again when gunshots are fired. As the bullets embed themselves in Lucifer's back he lowers his weapon and fixes his irate gaze upon Dean, who is standing with his gun sill pointed at Lucifer, the weapon still smoking.

"Hey there, Lucy."

Dean smirks at Lucifer's enraged expression. Seraphiel takes this opportunity to slash at Lucifer's chest with his sword, hoping to finally end the battle. Lucifer's head whips back to Seraphiel and he grabs his wrist before the killing blow can be struck. Lucifer snaps Seraphiel's wrist effortlessly, taking the sword and throwing it over the mountain side. Seraphiel hisses in pain and his grace unexpectedly flares, harming both Seraphiel and Lucifer in the process. Both angels separate, Lucifer on the other side of the mountain top and Seraphiel on the opposite.

Dean is caught in the middle.

Looking warily between the two angels, Dean backs up, planning to high tail it back to his boulder.

He is preserving his well-being, not hiding.

Neither angel seems to mind. Lucifer is watching Seraphiel intently as his brother clutches the stab wound. Seraphiel seems a little confused as he fights to control his suddenly rebellious grace. Lucifer smiles knowingly at Seraphiel and twirls his dagger in one hand.

"I've found a lot of useful items in Hell, Seraphiel. Like this little blade here." He holds it up for Seraphiel to see. Even at the distance between them Seraphiel can see the runes inscribed on the blade clearly. The blade itself is jagged and longer than that of a normal dagger. The hilt is black, fitted with one blood red ruby in the center.

"This particular item is specifically made for killing angels. Not in the conventional way, though. You see, what this does is eat away at the restraints that hold an angel's grace within their vessel. It also weakens their true selves to the point where they can no longer control their grace, and you know how devastating that can be. They literally implode. Extremely painful, I wouldn't want to go through it myself."

Seraphiel is panting now at the power he has to exert in order to keep his grace from burning himself alive. Sweat is beading clearly across his skin and the wound on his arm stings as it mixes with the blood. He can't focus his grace enough to heal it. But this fight is of the greatest import, so Seraphiel begins to think of a way to try and turn this situation to his advantage. If Seraphiel's grace is going to be released in its true form, it will be extremely powerful, maybe strong enough to destroy Lucifer. If he can control it, even for a short period of time…

"Ah, I know what you're thinking, little brother. And let me tell you something: it won't work."

Lucifer is in front of Seraphiel with the dagger raised before Dean can blink. Seraphiel backs up a little and Lucifer suddenly breaks out into a smirk and before Seraphiel can figure out what the hell is going on, Lucifer snaps his fingers and a ring of fire sparks to life around Seraphiel. Dean gapes, Lucifer looks on in triumph, and a sound that should never come from an angel tears from Seraphiel's throat.

The battle is over. Dean is still gaping; when the hell did Lucifer use holy oil? But he remembers the bottle Lucifer was holding earlier and he lets out a stream of mumbled curses. This can't be it...it just can't.

"You spineless coward! This is your plan? Release me so we may fight properly, Lucifer!"

Seraphiel is angered beyond belief as he paces inside of his prison like a caged tiger, furious golden eyes locked on his brother. Lucifer stares calmly back at him, and Seraphiel can feel his control over his grace slipping even further. His foot prints leave scorch marks as he continues to pace in the enclosed space, his expression livid.

"See, that would ruin my fun. I'm not going to kill you while you're trapped in there. It's not really my style. I'm going to leave you in there and watch you do all the work yourself." Lucifer scratches his head with the tip of the dagger and sighs, resting his chin on one fist. He tilts his head to one side and stares at his ensnared brother with interest. "But…maybe I'll take the first bite." Lucifer's eyes narrow and his brows furrow together in concentration. Seraphiel drops to his knees suddenly, clutching his head in his hands. A strangled groan escapes him and he doubles over himself, resting his forehead on the ground.

"I've picked up a few tricks, Seraphiel," Lucifer says as he watches his brother's trembling form. The fallen angel smirks and Seraphiel cries out in pain, shaking violently as his arms move to wrap around his middle. A faint red glow begins to emit from his body and another desperate moan is dragged from his lips.

"Lucifer…" Seraphiel looks up at his brother through his sweat soaked hair, eyes dazed with pain, his breaths harsh and shallow.

"Hm? Do you want to give in? I'll stop if you do."

Seraphiel smirks, flecks of blood decorating his lips.

"Go to Hell."

All traces of amusement leave Lucifer's visage and he raises one hand and clenches it shut. Seraphiel screams as a blinding pain erupts within his core and he clutches at his stomach again, curling into himself as his body convulses. The glow becomes stronger and Seraphiel's eyes flicker rapidly between a fierce red and their normal golden color. Another anguished scream is released from him, and that is when Dean has had enough.

Lucifer is content in watching Seraphiel writhe in agony when the most unexpected thing happens. He hears footsteps rushing towards him and he turns around, and what happens next catches him off guard completely.

"Stop it, you bastard!"

Dean barrels into Lucifer at full speed, sending them both tumbling to the ground. Lucifer is up in less than a second. He stares at the hunter on the ground in disbelief that soon fades to annoyance.

"You humans are so pathetically idiotic it's hard to even look at you." He advances on Dean, who actually has the decency to scoot back on his ass and look a little frightened now that the devil is on his tail. Just as Lucifer's arm stretches to grab Dean a blue light knocks into Lucifer forcefully, sending him a few yards back. It takes a second for Dean to realize that it's Castiel. In another two seconds Dean realizes that Cas is in deep shit.

Lucifer's foot is crushed onto the small of Castiel's back, keeping him pinned on the ground. Castiel is still struggling, but Lucifer reaches out both hands to the space above Castiel's shoulder blades and grabs at something Dean can't see. But at Castiel's gut wrenching scream he has a pretty good idea.

Lucifer has Castiel's wings.

Lucifer grins down wickedly at the pinned angel writhing beneath him. He looks over to Seraphiel, whose face is frozen in horror. The outline of Castiel's wings flicker into existance, shimmering with an ethereal quality. With a sickening crunch Lucifer twists his hand and feels bones give way in Castiel's left wing. Castiel cries out in his true voice and from his place on the ground Dean covers his ears but refuses to look away from the scene, a feeling of dread so strong filling his stomach to the point where he feels nauseous. He scrambles to his feet.

"Leave him alone! Let him go!"

Dean forgets the fact that he's about to charge the devil again (even though it didn't work the first time) because it's _Cas _and none of that shit matters when it comes to his angel. But he's forcefully reminded of what he's dealing with when he takes three steps forward and a bloody hole appears in his stomach. Blood rushes out of Dean's mouth and he collapses to his hands and knees, only a few feet away from Castiel, whose eyes widen with panic when they land on the hunter.

"Dean? Dean-" Castiel is cut off when Lucifer jerks on his wings, tearing some of the soft down feathers. He thrashes around on the ground and groans at the sharp and intense pain, desperate to get away from Lucifer and to Dean's side, gritting his teeth together at the fire spreading throughout his body from the nerves in his wings.

"Dean! Dean, get up!"

Dean has fallen onto his stomach and he isn't moving. Lucifer clicks his tongue and pulls the wings in his grip taut, rendering the angel underneath him immobile.

"Well, well, well. This is familiar, isn't it, Seraphiel?"

From inside the ring of holy fire Seraphiel can feel himself coming undone from the inside out. His grace is swelling with no chance of stopping it and it won't be long before he is consumed by it. He rises shakily to his feet and watches Lucifer's actions with tortured eyes as he is forced to relive one of his worst memories.

"Isn't it, Seraphiel?" Lucifer repeats coldly.

Seraphiel shakes his head, staring at Lucifer imploringly.

"Brother, stop. Please don't do this." It even causes pain for Seraphiel to speak; every time he opens his mouth he can feel his grace bubbling up from his throat like molten lava rising to lay siege upon the land . At his desperate plea Lucifer growls and clenches Castiel's wings tighter, eliciting an agonized moan from the youngest angel.

Dean twitches minutely at the sound.

"So you beg for him, Seraphiel? What about me? You've done more for him thus far and you barely even _know _this brother. What about when this was happening to me? What did you do?" An indescribable tone of anger fills Lucifer's voice as he glares at Seraphiel, fury at what was done to him fueling the rage that has been festering inside of him for thousands of years. His expression twists into one of pained grief as he recalls his lonely punishment in Hell. Every day he hoped that his brethren would come and save him, and every day a piece of him would die when no such thing happened. He was lost.

"Do you even comprehend what I was going through while you were in Heaven praising our Father? I was trapped in an infinitely dark and horrid place, filled with hurt and despair and so much _anger _it twisted me until I became..._this._" He gestures at himself with one hand, tightening the grip on Castiel's other wing when he feels the younger angel try and free himself. "I was furious at Michael and our Father because they abandoned me and left me in Hell to rot until the end of time. How could a father do that to his son? _They _left _me _and I burned because of it! I still am!" Lucifer is shouting now, and dark clouds are filling the sky and shading it black. "And where were you? You were joyfully singing your love for Him when He cast me out and you didn't once wonder what had become of me. You abandoned me too."

Seraphiel hangs his head and close his eyes, panting as he struggles to contain himself for a little longer. "I didn't abandon you," he rasps out thickly, "I couldn't do anything, Michael –"

"Lies! You could have done something, you were_ right there _when he did it_._ And yet you chose to stand there and do nothing! I begged for your help and you turned your back on me! Every one did! After all I taught you and all the things I showed you, that was how you saw fit to repay me? You're no better than Michael!"

Seraphiel is being roasted from the inside out; he feels the flames building within him and the growing power of his grace as it surges to the point of bursting. He's half crazed with the pain of it all and he grits his teeth and tries to focus long enough to respond to Lucifer.

"I'm sorry! I wasn't strong enough, I couldn't help you and I'm sorry you had to suffer for it. Don't take it out on Castiel, I'm begging you."

Lucifer shakes his head.

"You know nothing of true suffering. You've been by God's side your entire life. But I can give you a little taste." Lucifer focuses his attention on Castiel.

Seraphiel blinks dazedly, taking a step back once the reality of what is happening hits him.

As he looks at Dean and Castiel lying helplessly on the ground, Seraphiel realizes something. That awful and piercing feeling that came to him while watching the family in Arizona never once emerged while he was in the presence of Castiel and the Winchesters. Sam had once told him that the feeling was loneliness. Seraphiel looks back on his time on with the humans and he finally figures out what he was too blind to see before.

He's had a family all along, right there with him. And all of that is about to be taken away.

Lucifer grips both of Castiel's wings in a vice-like hold and prepares to snap them in two when a series of events burst forth.

Seraphiel's grace explodes out of control like an atom bomb and he lets it consume him completely. His eyes glow red and his wings appear as two living flames, flickering brilliantly in all of the colors known to man.

He is covered in fire, all he knows is the burn of fire, and he _is _fire.

With a mighty cry Seraphiel spreads his wings that are ablaze with the unadulterated love for his Father, his brothers, and for humanity and he propels himself through the ring of holy fire, aimed like a bullet at Lucifer. The fallen angel releases his hold on Castiel and stares, dumbfounded, as the fiery blaze that is his little brother streaks toward him.

In the spilt second before Lucifer and Seraphiel collide, the dark clouds littering the sky part momentarily and the purest of white light surrounds Seraphiel's body and disappears as quickly as it came.

Seraphiel slams into Lucifer with the force of a comet striking the earth and as soon as they make contact a blood curdling scream sounds from Lucifer as both angels are sent careening through space and time, all the while being consumed by the holy fire released from Seraphiel's grace.

As soon as he is free of Lucifer's grip Castiel launches himself forward and rolls Dean onto his back, cradling the side of his face with one hand. Blood is still flowing from the hunter's mouth and he is deathly still.

"Dean? Dean!"

Castiel places one hand above the hole in his charge's stomach and uses what little strength he has left to heal the hunter and send him back to Bobby's. Then the blue eyed angel rises to his feet and spreads his wings, ignoring the piercing agony running through them as he hurtles after Lucifer and Seraphiel. He doesn't think about anything but retrieving his brother, even as he feels his wings tearing with the speed at which he's going.

In fact, he moves faster.

He tucks his wings in taut against his back and flies faster than any angel has ever flown before because he has everything to loose and nothing to gain if he fails.

When he finally sees his brothers intertwined in blazing ball of fire he grasps Seraphiel tightly and yanks him back, pulling harder when he feels his wings snap under the pressure and even as Seraphiel lets go of Lucifer, who falls like a stone to the ocean below them. Castiel can feel his hand grasping Seraphiel burning with the intense heat rolling off his brother in waves and he knows that it will be rendered useless, maybe even permanently. The two angels are spiraling downward but Castiel is very familiar with this situation and they both disappear before they touch the water.

* * *

Dean is in angel induced shock when he finds himself in the panic room with an empty cot and no idea of the outcome of Lucifer's and Seraphiel's showdown. Castiel is no where in sight, but Dean knows that he patched him up and sent him here, so where the hell is he? Lucifer couldn't have got him…could he? Dean feels a headache coming on and he turns to look at the cot.

Which is empty.

Immediately Dean panics and looks around the room for his brother.

_Where's Sammy?_

Dean rushes out of the panic room and up the stairs, thumping noisily as he moves. He's in the kitchen when Bobby appears, shotgun in hand. He pauses and fixes Dean with an exasperated look.

"Goddamn idjit," he mumbles under his breath, motioning for Dean to follow him. They stop at the door to one of the spare rooms that Dean and Sam would use when they were younger. Bobby pushes the door open and shoves Dean inside. "Don't go missing this time." Bobby wheels himself out, leaving Dean to stare at his giant of a brother.

Sam is lying in the bed, sprawled out with his spider limbs, snoring loudly. A smile tugs at Dean's lips as he pulls up a chair and sits beside his brother. He looks like he's okay now. Dean ruffles Sam's hair and notes that he needs to get it cut. The thought is random and so mundane that it makes Dean chuckle a little. He just witnessed an epic fight between two angels of the Lord and all he can think about is getting Sam a haircut.

Some things never change.

Dean leans back on the back legs of the chairs and tilts his head back, finally beginning to relax a little. He realizes how _tired _he is suddenly, and he really wants-

**CRASH.**

Dean nearly jumps out of his skin and he falls out of his chair as a smoking heap of…_something _drops into the room and onto the floor on the other side of Sam's bed, knocking a lamp off the nightstand. The lights flicker and the television turns on, causing the hair on the back of Dean's neck to stand on end.

Talk about déjà vu.


	15. Aftermath

**Thanks for all the feedback! You don't know how happy it makes me to check my email and see little review thingies. :D**

* * *

Dean can't believe this is happening again. He's frozen in place by apprehension, his own heartbeat echoing loudly in his ears. Why does this keep happening to him? Is God somewhere laughing his ass off while He watches him struggle? Dean is suddenly angry. He's angry at God for letting all of this shit happen for a second time and he's angry at Lucifer and at the fucking _demon blood-_

Dean is taken back to that one night that changed everything.

_Castiel is screaming, light pouring out of his eyes, his mouth, everywhere, threatening to swallow Dean and never let him back up for air-_

But there is no screaming this time. Everything is quiet.

Dean rushes to the other side of Sam's bed and drops to his knees beside the unmoving heap that is Seraphiel and Castiel. The two angels are tangled together in a mass of limbs, their clothes burned and still smoking. Dean reaches for Castiel's arm to tug them apart but he draws his hand back with a hiss when he's burned as soon as his hand makes contact with Castiel.

"Damn it," he mutters and looks back at Sam, who is still sleeping. The kid can sleep through a hurricane.

"Dean? You okay?" Bobby calls from his study.

Dean jumps in surprise. He forgot about Bobby.

"Yeah, Bobby! Everything's fine, Sam just knocked over a lamp."

"Alright then. I'm gonna turn in, you good for the night?"

"Yeah. Night, Bobby."

Dean turns back to the angels, who still haven't moved at all. Dean looks to Sam. Should he wake him up? Dean notices the hollows under his brother's eyes and the paleness of his face and decides that he needs to rest. He needs it.

Dean stands up and heads to the kitchen, rummaging around through drawers until he finds a pair of oven mitts. He returns to Sam's room and puts on the them, stepping over to the angels.

Castiel's eyes are open.

Dean squats in front of him and watches as Castiel's dazed eyes finally focus on him. The angel is completely out of it and he looks like he lost a fight with a flamethrower, but there are no flashing lights and black veins so Dean considers this an improvement from the last time he came crashing into a room.

"Dean?"

"Yeah, it's me. How are you feeling?"

"How do you think?" Castiel says breathlessly, wincing as he tries to move away from Seraphiel. "He's too hot," he mumbles.

Dean frowns and tugs at Castiel's arms again, pulling him away from Seraphiel. Castiel hisses and tenses at the movement, shutting his eyes tightly. "Sorry, sorry," Dean murmurs, hooking his arms under Castiel's as he lugs the angel up to his feet. Castiel sways unsteadily and Dean secures an arm around his waist. Dean holds the angel still as he breathes heavily and attempts to walk. He stumbles and Dean catches him.

"I apologize, Dean. I am very tired."

Dean hooks his arm around Castiel's waist again and walks him to the empty bed next to Sam's, grateful for once for the fact that Sam had terrible nightmares when he was younger, which of course made Dean want their beds in the same room.

"It's okay, Cas. I gotcha."

Dean settles Castiel on the bed and attempts to get him to lie down. He struggles weakly, pushing Dean's hands away, forehead crinkled in mild annoyance.

"I will be fine. Check on Seraphiel, he is severely injured."

Dean makes sure Cas is settled in and returns to Seraphiel's side. The angel is sprawled on his back, his chest rising rapidly with his shallow breaths. Sweat is running down his face in rivulets and his body shakes with small tremors. It looks like he's overheated. But that can't be right; Dean has seen him control fire all the time without breaking a sweat. Why would it bother him now? Dean turns to Cas.

"What's wrong with him?"

Castiel, who has been panting heavily, gathers his breath and answers, "Lucifer's dagger. It caused Seraphiel's grace to grow beyond the level at which he could control it. It consumed him, but not before he threw himself through the holy fire and at Lucifer. I don't know how he did that, but the little of his grace that is left is fighting its way out of his body. He can't control it anymore. It's killing him."

Dean looks back at Seraphiel, worry gnawing at his insides. Lucifer…that bastard. Yeah, his family is screwed beyond belief, but that doesn't give him the right to take it out on his little brother. If they were so close, then how could he do this to him? Dean turns his gaze to Castiel.

"How do we stop it?"

Castiel hangs his head and sighs.

"We can't. He's going to die."

Dean stills and glares at Castiel, a hard edge coming over his features.

"No, he's not. We're going to save him because he sacrificed himself to save us. Now if you don't have anything to say that will help him, I suggest you keep your mouth shut."

Castiel falls quiet and Dean turns back to Seraphiel.

"I'm gonna help you, okay buddy?"

Dean removes Seraphiel's tattered leather jacket and the charred remains of his outer shirt. The wife beater is burned too, so Dean tears that off and throws the clothes in a corner. The boots are next to go. Once Seraphiel is left in just his jeans Dean looks at his brother.

"Sam! Wake up!"

The reaction is immediate. Sam shoots up with a grunt, looking around wildly. His hair looks like a bird's nest and he wipes a trail of drool off with his arm.

"Whassit, Dean?"

He sees Seraphiel on the floor, shaking and gasping for breath, and Dean can see the alert look now taking over Sam's features. Sam swings his legs over the bed and kneels next to Seraphiel, observing the angel with worried eyes.

"What happened to him?"

Dean shakes his head, "I'll tell you later. I need you to go fill the tub with water for him."

Sam nods and quickly moves to the bathroom down the hall. Seraphiel's eyes flutter open and he gazes up at Dean, his cheeks flushed with fever. A strange look passes over him and for a second the angel is staring at Dean with a startling clarity that leaves Dean feeling laid open and bare, like Seraphiel staring straight into his soul. Recognition flashes over Seraphiel's features. The seraph then tugs at Dean's jeans and the hunter can feel the scorching heat through the denim.

"Michael?" Seraphiel's voice is small and hopeful and he looks so miserable that Dean can't bring himself to correct the angel. Instead Dean pats Seraphiel's shoulder and offers a strained smile.

"Just take it easy, okay?"

Seraphiel shakes his head, pulling at Dean urgently.

"Michael, I'm…sorry. Lucifer, he's…" Seraphiel shudders and groans softly, his eyes falling shut. His grip loosens and his hand falls away from Dean's leg, limp. Dean snaps his fingers.

"Hey! Keep looking at me."

Seraphiel's eyes crack open for a second before slipping closed again. His dark hair is plastered to his forehead with sweat and he's huffing air into his mouth like it's the only thing keeping him alive.

Then he's not doing it anymore. He just…stops.

Dean freezes, staring down at the deathly still angel.

Seraphiel isn't breathing.

"Seph?" Dean shakes the angel, a pool of dread settling in his stomach. He's going to get an ulcer at this rate. When Seraphiel doesn't respond, Dean shakes him harder and slaps him on the cheek. The angel's head lolls to the side. "Come on, wake up! Seph? Seph!"

Dean is pushed aside by Castiel, who kneels down, breathing heavily. He places a hand out and rests it Seraphiel's forehead. After a tense moment of silence Seraphiel inhales a gulp of air and coughs, his whole body shaking with each harsh sound from his throat. Castiel shuts his eyes in concentration and a soft blue light emanates from his hand. Steam rises from the contact and Seraphiel moans in relief, turning his head into Castiel's hand.

"What are you doing?" Dean asks.

"Cooling him off a little," Castiel replies, a look of intense concentration still etched on his face. Whatever he's doing seems to be working. The tremors that plagued Seraphiel's body lessens and his breaths come easier. He still looks feverish, but it is more subdued now. Exhausted, Castiel removes his hand and slumps against Dean, unconscious. Cursing wildly, Dean lies Castiel on the floor just when Sam enters the room.

"Sam, take Seph and put him in the water." Dean takes off the oven mitts and hands them to his brother. "You'll need these." Sam looks at them in confusion, but he puts them on anyways, shooting his brother a look that clearly says _you better tell me what the hell is going on, _which Dean responds to by a wave of his hand, which means _later. _Secretly Dean is ecstatic that they're actually communicating without words, like how they used to. But he has work to do, so he shoves the happy feeling down to wherever the rest of his unfinished shit goes and he heaves Cas up. Unsteadily he moves to the closest bed and deposits the unconscious angel on the sheets. He hears Sam grunt behind him and turns to see that he's having a little bit of trouble moving Seraphiel.

"Dean, he's so _heavy. _What… the fuck," he pants. Dean is thinks of the time when he had a hard time picking Cas up. Maybe it's an angel thing, he thinks idly. Dean moves over to them and grasps Seraphiel's ankles, making sure that the fabric of the angel's jeans is between his hands and the angel's skin. It's still pretty warm though.

"Okay, on three we lift. One…two…three!"

They manage to lift him off the ground, but Sam wasn't lying, he's really, _really _heavy. Huffing with exertion the brothers carry him off towards the bathroom. Once inside they lower him carefully in the water and watch as steam rises in gray tendrils once the angel touches the water. Seraphiel shudders and groans pathetically. Sam makes sure his head stays above the water before Dean stands up.

"Alright. Just watch him for a bit. I'm going to check on Cas, and then I'll fill you in."

Sam nods and takes a seat on the edge of the tub. Dean looks back at Seraphiel for a second and then exits the bathroom. This looks bad. But at least Sam is with him this time.

Castiel still hasn't moved when Dean enters the room. Dean sits on the edge of his bed and stares at him, trying to figure out if he's just sleeping or if he's in some kind of angel coma or something. Lucifer did a lot of damage to Castiel's wings back on that mountain. And Dean feels a little guilty for that, because Cas' wings being torn up like that always leads back to Dean. Cas getting hurt always leads to Dean.

"Stop that."

Castiel's too blue eyes are on Dean, narrowed in a way that makes Dean feel like he's being reprimanded.

"Stop what?"

Castiel frowns, like Dean already knows the answer and he's just playing dumb.

"Do not blame yourself for my injuries. I knew the consequences for my actions beforehand and I still don't regret doing what I did. In fact, I'd do it again if I had to. Because you are worth it, Dean." Somewhere in all that Castiel manages to sit up, and Dean knows that he's talking about more than his injuries. "You are worth it, Dean," he repeats, as if saying it enough will get Dean to believe it. Dean opens his mouth to respond, but his eyes catch onto to Castiel's left hand and he's left gaping at it.

"Cas! What the _fuck_?" Dean grabs Castiel's sleeve and pulls so he can get a better look at the angel's hand. The skin is charred black and it looks like it will just crumble to dust if it is touched. Castiel draws it away from Dean.

"It happened when I separated Seraphiel and Lucifer. I believe it was Seraphiel's grace."

There is no way. Castiel did _not _chase after the devil with a broken wing, grab his brother, who happened to be lit up like a birthday cake with _holy fire, _and then somehow manage to bring them here, because that would be stupid, reckless, and…totally like Cas. Dean sighs wearily and looks away towards the window.

"What am I going to do with you?" he says softly.

Castiel simply continues to stare at him solemnly.

"You could set my wings."

Dean blinks.

"Huh?"

Castiel shifts on the bed until his back is facing Dean. Slowly, two forms in the shape of very large wings appear, shimmering silver in front of Dean's eyes. Intricate patterns begin to form, and Dean realizes that they are the bone structure in Castiel's wings. He can't make out feathers, but he supposes they are in the space not occupied by the bones. The wings themselves don't look solid, so when Dean reaches out a hand to touch one he's surprised to feel feathers. They're impossibly soft and light against his fingers, not like normal bird feathers. Castiel makes a surprised sound and shudders at the touch, his wings quivering a little bit.

"Sorry," Dean mutters, placing his hand back in his lap as he continues to stare at the shifting forms of Castiel's wings.

"It is fine. They are just sensitive." Castiel looks back over his shoulder at Dean and he extends one wing towards him. "Do you see where the bone has fractured?"

Dean leans forward and inspects the offered wing. He can't see anything.

"Cas, scoot up." The angel moves forward until he is sitting on the edge of the bed. Dean moves fully onto the bed and situates himself in a kneeling position behind the angel, peering closely at the silvery outline of the appendages. Now that he's closer, he can make out spots where bone is sticking out of the structure of Castiel's wings. "I can see them now, Cas."

"Good. I need you to set them, otherwise they will heal incorrectly."

A flutter of nervousness shoots through Dean at the Castiel's words. How the hell is he supposed to set an angel's wings? And what if he messes up?

"Cas…I don't think this is a good idea. I don't want to screw your wings up, man."

Castiel shifts impatiently and his wings flap once, threatening to knock Dean off the bed.

"Dean, you have to. They will keep causing me pain until I heal them and I can't do that unless they are set correctly. All you have to do is push down hard enough so they snap back into place. It is not very different from human bones."

Dean snorts. They're a hell of a lot different to him. But he sighs and straightens himself up on his knees because even though he doesn't realize it yet, Castiel has Dean wrapped around his pinky finger.

"Okay, Cas. Just…don't move."

"Thank you, Dean. Start at the top and work your way down."

Castiel pulls his wing as tight as he can to his back to make it easier for Dean to get the first fracture. Dean sifts his hand through the feathers before he grasps the top arch of the wing. Castiel inhales sharply. Somewhere Dean heard that a bird's wings are in some ways like a human arm. So what he's grasping right now should be Castiel's… humerus? Or maybe his radius…

"Dean." Castiel's voice is strained and Dean snaps back to attention.

"Sorry."

Dean steels himself and presses the heel of his right hand to the fractured bone. With his left hand he grips Castiel's shoulder. Without warning he pushes hard against the broken bone and hears an audible crack as the bone is forced back in place. Castiel jerks under Dean's grip and he releases a stuttering breath.

"You okay, Cas?"

"Yes, keep going." Castiel straightens out his wing a little.

Dean cards his hands through the silky feathers until he feels another fracture, subconsciously smoothing out the feathers wherever his hand roams. He pops the bone back in place and continues his task, falling into a comfortable rhythm of setting the bones and then untangling the feathers. Castiel is tense the entire time, obviously in pain, so Dean tries to move as fast as he can. Eventually he finishes with the first wing and he slides his hands over it again, getting rid of any knots until his hands run smoothly without getting caught in tangles. Castiel lets out a quiet breath of air and breath relaxes a little bit. Dean starts on the other wing and finds that he's actually enjoying doing this for Castiel. It isn't often that Dean gets to help out the angel, so this is a nice change of pace. And Castiel was right; it is just like setting human bones.

"You know, you didn't have to do what you did back there. You could have been killed," Dean says, because he usually talked to Sam while he was patching him up and when he really thinks about it, this really isn't that different.

"Yes, I did. As I said before, I owe you my life, Dean. And you are my friend."

"You're my friend too, Cas. It just bothers me when you do things like that." Dean pops the last bone in place and works on untangling the feathers.

"You don't have to do that. I can get them later." Castiel pulls his wing against his back but Dean stubbornly keeps both of his hands entangled in it, gentle but insistant.

"Hey, let me fix it. C'mon, Cas."

When it's apparent that Dean will not give in Castiel sighs and unfurls his wing.

Castiel realizes that Dean has him wrapped around his pinky finger.

Dean begins to sift through Castiel's feathers again, working out the clumps until they run smoothly through his fingers. He really does enjoy how soft they are.

"Hey, what color are your wings, Cas?"

"Gray. With a little white."

Dean nods, "Like a pigeon?"

The feathers under Dean's hands ruffle a little bit and the hunter sinks his hands in deeper, smiling at the sensation. Castiel frowns at Dean's comparison of his wings to that of a pigeon's.

"I suppose," the angel says slowly.

"I thought they would be white."

Castiel doesn't reply. He is still agitated at Dean's pigeon comment. But after a few more minutes of Dean smoothing out his feathers Castiel decides that the hunter doesn't know any better.

"Did we win?" Dean asks suddenly.

"Hm?" Castiel will not admit it out loud, but he is rather enjoying having his wings tended to. It feels…'awesome', as Dean would say.

"Lucifer. Did Seraphiel smite his ass?"

Castiel shakes his head.

"I don't know. He fell into an ocean when I rescued Seraphiel."

Dean doesn't reply. Castiel sits quietly until the hunter is finished.

"There," Dean declares. "All done."

Castiel's wings melt away out of sight and he stands and turns to Dean.

"I appreciate your help. Now we must go and check on Seraphiel –"

Sam enters the room suddenly, pointing back in the direction of the bathroom.

"Guys, he just appeared out of nowhere looking pissed as hell and he wouldn't leave and I need you to –"

Dean pushes Sam to the side and heads toward the bathroom, Castiel hot on his heels. Sam huffs and follows them. When Dean pushes the door open and sees the figure crouched in front of the bathtub his mouth drops.

"Gabriel?"

The archangel stands and turns to Dean, looking uncharacteristically serious. His eyes narrow and he points back at Seraphiel, glaring heatedly.

"What the _hell _happened to him? Who did this?"

"Whoa there, slow down –"

Gabriel's eyes are blazing as steps toward Dean. Sure, he's little, but the angel inside of him isn't, and Dean holds up his hands in an attempt to placate the archangel.

"Don't tell me to slow down, you idiotic asswipe! Tell me what happened to him _right_ _the fuck now _or I'll –"

"Gabriel?"

All eyes turn to Seraphiel, who has dragged his upper body over the edge of the tub, panting heavily as he looks up at the archangel.

"Gabriel. I knew you'd…come back." He smiles weakly at his older brother before he erupts into a coughing fit. Gabriel kneels in front of Seraphiel and rests one hand on his shoulder, using his other hand to gently swipe the dampened black hair out of the feverish golden eyes staring back at him with so much love, even after all of these years.

"Of course, bro. Can't let you have all the fun, can I?" Gabriel runs his hand down the side of Seraphiel's neck, the younger angel's eyes drifting shut at his brother's familiar touch. "You must have really pissed someone off." Gabriel chuckles softly, but there's no humor in it at all.

Castiel appears in front of Dean, staring impassively at Gabriel.

"I will tell you what happened. There's a panic room downstairs that is warded against anything demonic. I think he will be better off down there while we speak."

Gabriel turns to study Castiel, a thoughtful look passing over his features. He then nods slowly and disappears, along with Seraphiel. Castiel follows suit. Dean releases a breath and shrugs.

"That could have gone better."

Sam cuffs him on the back of his head.

* * *

**Yay for Gabriel! He's awesome. :)**

**Don't forget to review! Big chapter coming up next.**


	16. Running up that hill

**I'm on a roll with this whole updating thing.**

**The name of this chapter is from a song by Placebo. I think it fits.**

* * *

Gabriel is furious.

He's been away from Heaven for a while now, living it up on Earth without a care in the world with all the sweets and humans to toy with that he ever needed. Screw Heaven. Screw Michael. Screw the whole goddamn _world _and the apocalypse because there is no way he's getting involved. That would mean he'd have to pick a side, and he was adamant about not doing that. He planned to sit this shitfest out because he had no desire to be caught between Michael and Lucifer's ridiculous feud. If Lucifer wanted to throw a tantrum, fine, but he should have had the decency to keep it from ending the world. Now Gabriel is the one being screwed because if Earth is gone, where will that leave him? He'll be forced back with his dick brothers for all eternity, and that was something that had caused him to realize that maybe he needed to actually pay attention to what was going on. So he started to poke around a little bit, keep himself in the game, and then _this _comes out nowhere. This – this fucking _thing_ that happened to a younger brother he never thought would even consider leaving Heaven.

And it really, _really _pisses him off because no one, not even the _devil, _gets to mess with his little brother without hearing from him. Too bad Seraphiel got to Lucifer first.

"So explain this to me again, Cassie. Seraphiel just went totally badass on Lucifer and fried him with holy oil that he threw himself into? How is that even possible?"

Castiel is staring away from Gabriel, his features irate.

"I would appreciate it if you called me by my name."

Gabriel rolls his eyes, "Fine, _Castiel. _You got any ideas on how he did it?"

"No." Castiel cocks his head to one side and observes his brother with calculating eyes. "And it's Cas."

Gabriel rolls his eyes again and stares at his brother with annoyance.

"You're angry with me."

Castiel nods. "Yes, I am. You left."

Gabriel throws his hands up in exasperation.

"Yeah, I left. And I don't regret it either." He waggles a finger at Castiel. "You don't know what it was like after Lucifer's rebellion. How broken everything was. You weren't even created yet, so don't go around thinking that I don't give a rat's ass about this family because that's bullshit and you and I both know it." His tone sharpens and he's glaring at Castiel because he's frustrated beyond belief. "I refuse to choose between my brothers. I love them too much and I don't want to see them kill each other."

"But that's what will happen. Why won't you help?"

But Gabriel has turned away from him and he knows that the conversation is over. Gabriel stares down at Seraphiel, his face strangely blank. After a moment of quiet contemplation he vanishes. Castiel takes up a chair by Seraphiel's side and takes in his shivering form with solemn eyes. It will only get worse from here.

* * *

Dean is sitting on the couch in front of the fireplace when he feels Castiel's presence beside him. He turns and sure enough, the angel is sitting next to him, staring straight ahead at the flickering flames. Castiel is looking worse for wear and Dean can't blame him. The aftermath of facing Lucifer is finally catching up with them. Dean can tell that Castiel's wings are still hurting him by his posture. A stab of guilt twists in the hunter's gut as he glances at the angel's blackened and useless left hand. They all have made sacrifices, and for what? They don't know if Lucifer is still alive and Seraphiel is fighting for his life.

"He is not getting any better," Castiel comments, his voice flat, like all the fight has been sucked out of him. "Gabriel's concern is growing."

Dean slouches back against the couch, his fingers tapping the rhythm to a Metallica song on his stomach. A nervous habit that Castiel has come to recognize.

"How did he know to show up here anyway?" Dean asks. "It's not like we broadcasted this or anything."

"Angels are all linked," Castiel begins. "Our power is communal. Some angels have stronger bonds with each other and that is how they can locate one another. Gabriel must have sensed Seraphiel's depleting grace."

"Is that how all angels loose their mojo? Because other angels shut themselves off to them?"

Castiel nods and his gaze flickers from Dean and back to the fire again, a very quick and subtle reaction that Dean has noticed Castiel does when he's hiding something. He was never good at lying, especially to Dean.

"Alright Cas, spill it. What aren't you telling me?"

Castiel looks at anything but Dean, another habit the hunter has pegged.

"Is it about your grace? Seph restored it for you, so…" Dean trails off, his eyes narrowing dangerously at the fidgeting angel next to him. He turns so that he's facing Castiel completely.

"Cas, are you still cut off?"

Silence.

"Damn it, Cas! You didn't think of mentioning this before? What the hell?"

Panic is filling Dean's senses because Castiel's angel juice will be gone and then he'll turn into-

"I did not want to worry you, Dean. And it will be a while before my grace fades completely –"

"And what then? Why didn't Seph do anything about that?"

Castiel sighs and stares pointedly at the fire again.

"Only God or Michael can restore an angel's ties to Heaven, and I do not think that will happen. I apologize for not telling you-"

Dean has tuned out at this point, and all he can think about is the future Cas and the emptiness in his dulled and dead gaze and all he's sacrificed and thrown away.

Anything for Dean.

* * *

Gabriel appears in the panic room in a flurry of wind, thoroughly exhausted and pissed. Three days of nonstop searching and he has absolutely nothing to show for it. He's no closer to helping Seraphiel and it causes him to feel a strong sense of uselessness that he is not used to. He was always good at taking care of Seraphiel…

Castiel blinks into the room, and by the expression on his face Gabriel knows they're in the same boat. Gabriel massages his temples and groans.

"I'm stumped," he states wearily. "This has never happened before. No one's ever thrown themselves through holy fire. He shouldn't have been able to do that…" Gabriel sighs and snaps his fingers and a comfy looking chair materializes. He pulls it up next to Seraphiel and sits down heavily, eyes focused on the fitful features of his brother. Seraphiel is in a constant state of pain and nothing can be done about it. He's always shivering but his skin is hot enough to scorch a human hand. Gabriel tried to pour his own grace into Seraphiel but it only ended up hurting him, forcing the group to realize that they have no idea what to do in this situation. "It shouldn't have been possible…" Gabriel mutters absently.

"Maybe it was a miracle," Castiel says softly, staring listlessly at the floor. "Maybe it was God."

A bitter laugh escapes Gabriel.

"Why would He show up now? Plenty of us have died and He hasn't lifted a finger. He doesn't care anymore."

Castiel remains silent as he stands and gazes at Seraphiel, his brother who used to shine so brilliantly with all of Heaven's light and love. It was that love that burned brightly for all to see when he burst through the holy fire, ready to give his life to save humanity. He is one of the most faithful angels Castiel knows. Would their Father just abandon him like this and let him die, even after he's spent his whole life praising Him?

Has God abandoned them all?

* * *

"Father…"

Dean clenches his fists together as he listens to Seraphiel's broken pleas for someone who won't show. The angel has been doing that for the last hour and a half. He just lies there in a nearly unconscious state calling for God, sometimes in different languages, some obviously very old by the expression Sam would get.

It truly is sad.

Sad how such a powerful being has to be reduced to this because of a piss fight between two older brothers. As far as Dean is concerned, Seraphiel is the innocent in this situation. He just got caught in the crossfire between Michael and Lucifer, like everyone else on the planet. So what if Michael kicked his little brother's ass. So what if said little brother flipped the fuck out. It happens in every family. It should have stayed between them. It should have never involved the _entire_ world. Screw whatever Lucifer said about being left alone in Hell; Seraphiel does not deserve this.

"I don't think he'll make it, Dean." Sam's voice cuts through the silence in the panic room.

Both of the Winchesters observe the sickly angel on the cot in the middle of the room. It's been five days and Seraphiel's condition has been deteriorating steadily. Gabriel has been working himself in a frenzy trying to find a way to save his brother. If it were anyone else, Dean might have found it admirable. But this is the guy who killed him, repeatedly and at the expense of Sam, so Dean was against giving him any credit. But Gabriel hardly paid the Winchesters any mind anyway. He was hardly there, in fact. He'd pop in, check on Seraphiel and then disappear again to continue his search. Every time he'd come back empty handed he'd get angrier and angrier until he finally snapped.

"Why should he have to suffer for what you don't have the balls to do? Why did he have to sacrifice himself doing what you were _destined _for? This is all your fault! If you would have just played the role you were given then none of this would have happened! He'd be in Heaven where he's supposed to be, not down here in this shit hole withering away! He doesn't deserve this!" Gabriel fixed his gaze on Dean, a maelstrom of emotions flaring in the honey colored gaze of the archangel that has seen and lost so much.

"He doesn't deserve this," He said again quietly, his voice thick. "Because of you I've lost a brother."

Dean stood there and took it because in the end, he knew that Gabriel was right.

"I don't know what to do for him," Dean confessed later that night while looking up at the stars, leaned up against the side of the Impala. "Gabriel...he was right, Sammy. This is my fault, isn't it?" Sam knew that no matter what he said Dean was already convinced that he was the reason Seraphiel lay dying on that flimsy cot.

So Sam said nothing, and the two brothers stared up at the stars in silence.

* * *

The rain is endless. It thuds continuously all around Castiel, soaking his vessel's clothes and matting his dark hair to his face.

Of course he can't feel it.

He can't feel much of anything as of late.

So when Dean finds him an hour later out on Bobby's porch in the storm staring up at the angry skies _(why are they so angry_?), he's momentarily shocked when he feels the warmth of Dean's hand as he's grabbed and led back inside.

Humans. Filled with warmth and love and so much _hurt. _

Castiel wouldn't mind feeling a little hurt among the chilling numbness that has taken over him.

* * *

Dean finds himself alone by Seraphiel's side again. Everyone else is upstairs in Bobby's study, minus Gabriel. Sam had explained to Bobby what's been going on and initially the elder hunter was pissed for being kept out of the loop for so long. But he's been looking for a way to save Seraphiel too, even if he hasn't met him. And knowing Bobby, he probably wasn't planning on it.

"No…"

A choked sob thrusts Dean away from his thoughts. Seraphiel has his eyes shut tightly as he struggles to be released from the restraints on his wrists and ankles. After he lashed out and decked Sam in the jaw they figured it was best.

"No, _no_..."

Dean reaches out for Seraphiel's arm before he actually thinks about it and he's surprised when he isn't burned. He's not sure if that's a good thing or not.

"Seph, it's okay, you're safe here," Dean soothes in a soft tone. Seraphiel opens his eyes and rolls his gaze up to meet the hunter's.

"Dean? Dean, he's here, it had to be you and now he's so _angry_ –"

Dean cuts off the rambling angel by placing his hand over Seraphiel's mouth. He waits for the angel to calm down somewhat before he cautiously removes his hand.

"Who's angry?" he questions.

Seraphiel's eyes have slipped shut again and he's back under the fog again, dead to everything but his own inner torture. Dean's jaw clenches and he sits stiffly by the angel until Gabriel appears standing on the other side of the cot. The two stare at each other with hard eyes.

"What did he say?" Gabriel demands.

Dean has half a mind to cuss him out, but he remembers that they are actually on the same side and he bites his tongue.

"He said that someone is here and that he's angry."

Gabriel's eyes widen and he touches his hand to Seraphiel's forehead. Seraphiel jolts like he's been electrocuted and his feverish eyes snap open.

"Bro, I need you to focus and tell me who you saw, okay? Can you do that for me?"

Seraphiel doesn't respond. He keeps on breathing in short little gasps, eyes focused on the ceiling. Gabriel pats his cheek and speaks to him softly in language that Dean recognizes to be Enochian. Seraphiel's breath quickens and he turns his head to look at Dean.

"Sorry," he mumbles, "Sorry."

Dean frowns, "For what? What are you sorry for?"

Seraphiel shudders violently and a raw, pained noise tears from his throat.

"Lucifer…" he chokes out. He's focused solely on Dean now, a fervent desperation swimming in his golden eyes. "It had to be you, only you and I've failed…"

Gabriel curses and vanishes, leaving Dean in a stupefied horror. He doesn't remember standing and calling for Castiel but the angel is there suddenly, his trench coat flapping at the current of wind he's made. He looks at Seraphiel and presses his hand to his forehead. Seraphiel falls limp under his touch. Castiel turns to Dean, urgency in his gaze.

"What happened?"

"Lucifer's alive," Dean says around the lump in his throat. "He's alive."

* * *

Hope is a fading memory to everyone in Bobby Singer's house. Lucifer survived and by the look of things, Seraphiel probably won't. A heavy sense of foreboding has settled over the occupants in the panic room, a darkness that can't even be lifted by Gabriel's grace because he himself is suffering and as a result his essence is withered and tarnished. So they all sit in a loose circle around Seraphiel; Sam, Dean, Castiel, and Gabriel, varying levels of grief written over their faces because it's been a week and they have nothing to show for it. It's like they've been running up a hill that goes on and on and when they think they've reached the top, someone throws a boulder and they're falling again. They have nothing to show for this effort at ending the devil and they're back where they started, minus an ally.

No…

A friend.

The Winchesters are not sure when they started to see Seraphiel as a friend. It was something that they each realized on their own time while doing different things. Dean realized it when he gave Seraphiel his nickname, something the angel had never gotten used to. The realization hit Sam when he'd bought a sudoku book for Seraphiel without a second thought because honestly, all of that intensely focused staring got a little creepy and he figured the angel could use a hobby.

He'd finished the whole book in fifteen minutes. So Sam bought him more and more and Dean kept showing him more and more of his music and pretty soon the angel had solidified his place with the brothers and Castiel. Another member was added to Team Free Will.

That makes this whole ordeal that much harder to bear.

Seraphiel's grace has deteriorated to a point where he's cold to the touch and he doesn't move at all, and if anyone else were to come into the room they would think that he's dead. But he's not, not yet. And as the silence carries on, every one knows that it won't be long now, even though they dare not speak it. This truth tears Gabriel up inside and his grace is crippled under the weight of his sorrow, making the room seem that much duller. Castiel can feel it, the horrible agony that can only come from an older brother watching his younger sibling suffer without being able to help. It crashes through Castiel's grace and leaves him breathless and that chilled numbness he's been trapped in shatters like china glass at the force of Gabriel's grief. A torrent of raw emotion fills his entire being and he's dragged under, like a child thrown into an ocean without knowing how to swim.

Castiel prefers it over the numbess.

Sam is in his own little world, staring somberly at Seraphiel, his sadness echoed clearly in his expression. Seraphiel was the one that gave him a chance at redemption, a chance to salvage what was left of the relationship with his brother. He owes the angel more than he could ever hope to give. And now it seems as if he'll never get the chance. Beside him he hears Dean take in a stuttering breath and he turns to look at him. A strange look is on his brother's face, a mixture of shocked bewilderment and awe. Sam nudges Dean's boot with his own but Dean continues to stare ahead as if he's in some trance.

"Do you feel that, Sammy?" he says in a hushed voice, as if whatever he's feeling might be crushed if he's too loud. And he officially has Sam's attention because, yes, he _can _feel it, only he doesn't know what _it _is. There's a warm and tingly sensation is his chest and it's spreading rapidly throughout his body, humming with power. It feels like…home. And he doesn't want the feeling to go away because it feels so _right_ and it isn't _wrong _and it's everything good in the world and more. Everything they've been fighting to protect. He looks at Dean and they share a look of bafflement because their friend is lying half dead not ten feet from them and they're suddenly filled with such contentment that they want nothing more than to bask in it forever. They look towards Castiel and Gabriel to see if they've noticed the strange feeling and by the looks of it, they have also.

Both angels are staring up with wide eyes at a spot directly above Seraphiel, frozen in place completely. The feeling bubbles inside Sam and Dean and then it surges and a light is filling the room suddenly, illuminating every corner and crevice. It's warm and it's home and it's everywhere, thrumming with the promises of peace and love and hope. It's…

"Father?"

Seraphiel's voice carries over the humming and hangs in the air. He's focused on a spot above him, too weak to do anything else. Castiel and Gabriel have fallen to their knees, staring up at the mass of the purest light above them with a reverence that can't be measured. Sam and Dean are paralyzed in veneration as they are surrounded by a presence they never thought they would bear witness to. Seraphiel smiles weakly, contentment welling up inside of him amidst the pain and torment.

"Take me with you," he breathes.

Seraphiel feels the last of his grace fading away and he stares desperately into the light before him. He voices one last plea with his remaining breath.

"Father, I want to go home."

The light pulses and the voices of all the choirs of Heaven are singing and chanting, filling the room with the angelic voices singing, "_Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of Hosts, the earth is full of His glory."_

The room is growing brighter and Sam and Dean are forced to close their eyes and cover their ears as the chanting intensifies to a powerful crescendo and then like the swells of the ocean it dies away as soon as it came, fading back into nothing. A gentle gust of air ripples throughout the room like an afterthought and like a dying flame, Seraphiel's grace wanes and flickers before it is snuffed out completely by the faint whisper of his Father's voice, filled with endless peace and pure and undefinable love.

**_Rest, my child._**


	17. Divided we fall

**Okay guys, last chapter here. :(**

* * *

It's been two weeks since Seraphiel…passed. Castiel keeps reminding Sam and Dean that he didn't die, God just took him back.

It's all the same to Dean. Dead or not, the angel won't be coming back.

After God left no one spoke for a long time. Nothing could be said. Yes, God did finally show up, but that meant He'd been aware of what was going on and He didn't do anything about it. If anything was worse than an absent father, it's knowing for certain that the absent father doesn't care enough to stop his sons from killing each other. Before it was speculated that He was dead and couldn't help. Now there was no excuse. He just...didn't care. There were mixed feelings from everyone at His appearance and with what happened to Seraphiel. There was no trace of the angel or Charlie in the body when everything settled down. Seraphiel always kept Charlie's soul safe inside of him, tucked away in his grace, even while he was suffering from the effects of Lucifer's dagger. Castiel said that the empty vessel left behind meant God led Charlie's soul to Heaven.

Castiel doesn't know where Seraphiel went.

Sam asked Gabriel what he wanted to do with the body since he was the closest to Seraphiel. The archangel's gaze flitted over to the corpse on the cot and then he glared at Sam with cold and stony eyes, his features iced over like a glacier.

"That's not my brother," he spat, and for a second the shadow of arched wings flickered along the walls and a current of electricity rippled through the air. No one could blame him for being angry.

He vanished after that. They haven't heard from him since.

They asked Castiel the same question. He looked at the Winchesters blankly before he disappeared in a quiet rush of air. The next day Sam and Dean went out to the woods behind Bobby's house and they burned Charlie's body. As they watched the smoke curl and stretch to the sky like wandering fingers, they both knew it was the right thing to do.

* * *

"You have a pretty craptastic dad, Cas."

The angel is rigid and motionless in the passenger seat, smooth and cold like marble. His penetrative stare never leaves the windshield. Outside the stars sparkle faintly in the dark expanse of sky, and Dean idly notes that if he were in the city they would be impossible to see. But he and Cas are nowhere near a city. They're driving along an empty road in Iowa at two in the morning because Dean was restless and couldn't sleep. So he left Sam snoring like a fog horn at the motel and took off in the Impala. Cas followed him out of the door and wouldn't leave him alone and so here they are in the middle of nowhere.

"He came."

There's an emptiness in the angel's voice that causes something to twist within Dean. Castiel shouldn't feel empty. He should feel _angry. _He's been busting his ass trying to preserve the world that his Father created and this is what he gets for it?

Well, that's okay, that's just fine. Dean has enough anger for the both of them.

"Yeah, a little too fucking late."

"He restored my hand and gave Charlie the peace he deserved."

Dean makes an unimpressed noise in the back of his throat and grips the steering wheel tighter. Why is he defending Him?

"Because he's my Father, Dean! You would have done the same for yours."

"Yeah? And what about Seph? Where the hell is he? Oh that's right, _you don't know._"

Dean doesn't notice the way Castiel coils and tenses even further, his jaw tight as he stares out at the lonely stretch of road ahead. Wasn't Seraphiel lonely?

Aren't they all lonely?

"And what about your grace? What did He do about that? _Nothing._ He left you out to dry."

"He told me not to stray from my path, Dean. That I am on it for a reason," Cas grits out, cutting steely blue eyes at the hunter.

"Yeah, well, fuck that. He hasn't helped us at all as far as I'm concerned. Lucifer is out, we don't know where the fuck Seraphiel is, or if he even exists anymore, and your grace is going to fizzle out. Again. Everything is peachy, fucking peachy."

Dean turns his head and finds himself alone.

"Fuck," he mutters.

Dean keeps on driving down that lonely road.

* * *

"Sam, I have breakfast."

Dean tosses a bag full of donuts on the table and sets down two cups of coffee. Sam rushes out of the bathroom and descends on the food, devouring two glazed donuts and starting on a third before Dean can sit down and take off his boots.

"Really good, Dean," Sam says between bites.

Dean rolls his eyes and sips at his coffee, focusing his bleary gaze on the vomit colored wall in front of him. Sam swallows the last of his donut and stares at his brother, noting the dark circles under his eyes and his drooping shoulders.

"You okay, man?" Sam ventures.

"Yeah." Dean doesn't look at him.

"You sure?"

"_Yes, _Sam," Dean snaps.

Sam gives up. He drums his fingers against the warm side of his coffee cup. Then he gets an idea and he yawns loudly, mouth open wide as he stretches his arms over his head. A few seconds later Dean is yawning too, and Sam smiles discretely to himself.

"It's too bright in here," Sam says and he moves to draw in the curtains, yawning again for good measure. Dean is watching him with narrowed eyes, but he doesn't say anything. "I'm going to get a shower, okay?"

The sound of running water always puts Dean to sleep. Sure enough, when Sam steps out of the shower Dean is strewn across his bed, dead to the world. Sam nudges Dean's arm back onto the bed from where it was hanging over the side. He leaves a note for when his brother wakes up and then he heads out the door, shutting it softly behind him.

There is a park that Sam ends up walking to. It's a beautiful day outside and for a second Sam feels like one of ordinary people strolling through the grass who worry about normal things, like paying bills and what to wear on first dates. Not Lucifer roaming free or demons or the fact that in a few months this park might not be here anymore. Sam desperately belives that it won't come to that. Yes, Lucifer is free and God doesn't care, but there's still hope. There has to be. Sam takes a seat on a bench in front of a playground. The kids are loud and energetic, as they should be. Sam wasn't allowed to act like that when he was little. It caused too much attention. A frown spreads across Sam's face as he remembers what barely constitutes for a childhood. He supposes it could have been worse. Much worse.

"Hey, look out!"

Sam snaps out of his thoughts and catches a red frisbee before it sails over his head.

"Whoa, nice catch!" A boy with messy dark hair grins at Sam. Sam smiles back and hands over the toy, ruffling the kid's hair.

"Be careful, okay kid?"

The boy nods and says, "You too."

They stare at each other and Sam feels a distinct tingle race across his spine. But then the moment is gone and the boy is running back towards his friends, waving his hand in the air. Sam stares after him, confused.

Weird.

When Sam lets himself back in the motel room Dean is still sleeping and Castiel is sitting on the bed next to him, one hand on his forehead. The angel looks at Sam briefly before turning back to Dean.

"He was having a nightmare."

Sam nods and shrugs out of his jacket, setting on the back of a chair.

"Hell?"

"Yes."

Castiel continues to stare at Dean as he wards away the images that plague the hunter's mind. For some reason that the angel can't fathom he can never stay mad at Dean for long. Castiel removes his hand turns to face Sam. The younger Winchester has come a long way since the demon blood. Castiel can still see the yearning in his gaze sometimes, but Castiel is pleased that Sam does not act on it. Castiel doesn't think Sam or Dean can handle another relapse.

"How have you been, Cas?" Sam sits down on the chair and stretches his legs out.

"I am fine," the angel says evenly, subconsciously straightening as Sam gives him the I-know-you're-bullshitting-me look. Castiel sighs, quickly figuring out that Sam is just as stubborn as Dean. "I am somewhat weary from recent events," he admits. Sam nods.

"I know, man. Me too." He shifts, folding his arms across his chest. "Hey. Uh…sorry about…y'know, not being there. Maybe –"

"Do not blame yourself for any of this, Sam. You have fought your own battle and won. That is…more than I can say for myself."

Sam knows that bitter tone from being around Dean his whole life. Of all Dean's traits that could have rubbed off on Castiel, why does it have to be the self loathing? Obviously the angel needs a pep talk, and since Dean is knocked out Sam supposes it's up to him.

"Hey, don't do that, Cas. You've helped us a lot, and we do appreciate it, despite what Dean may say sometimes. You know he can be a major dick."

"Yes, I have noticed. Typical Dean-like behavior," he murmurs as an afterthought.

"What was that?"

Castiel shakes his head. "Nothing. Thank you for this...talking. I feel a little better now. I do not understand why Dean detests it so much."

Sam laughs. "That's just how he is. But, uh, you sure you're okay?"

"Yes."

"Okay. So…the whole…God…thing. What do you think we should do?"

"We continue on our path. Lucifer must be stopped. He is in a weakened state right now and he won't be able to cause any more problems for a while. We must use this time wisely." Castiel turns to Dean as he mumbles something in his sleep. The angel tilts his head. "Watch over your brother," he says before he blinks out of Sam's sight.

Sam wishes he could say the same to Castiel. Instead he grabs a book and waits for Dean to get up.

Dean awakes with a snort hours later, jerking himself upright and looking around the room in confusion. Where the hell is he? All the rooms look the same to him...

He turns to see Sam is sitting on his bed with back propped against the headboard, focused on his laptop. He looks over at Dean and then back at the screen.

"I never thought you'd wake up, sleepyhead."

Dean grunts and rubs at his eyes.

"Cas gave me the magic finger, didn't he? Always feel like this when he gives me the finger." He's mumbling about fog and mud as he shuffles towards the bathroom.

"Cas says Lucifer is weakened and that we should use our time wisely," Sam calls. He hears Dean flush the toilet and the sound of running water. Seconds later Dean emerges from the bathroom and plops himself down on his bed again, on his back as he stares up at the ceiling.

"Can't believe Seph didn't ice that son of a bitch," Dean mutters to himself. Sam is silent. He closes his laptop and picks at the stiff sheets of his bed.

"Do you think…do you think Seph really went back to Heaven?"

Sam's face is hopeful as he gazes at Dean, and suddenly he's five and Dean is nine and they're thrust back into a life that seemed like it happened eons ago, where nights were spent huddled under the blankets together and where Dean was the coolest person ever because he was Sam's big brother and he could do _anything. _

But this Dean is different now. He can't do everything and he knows next to nothing. This Dean turns away from Sam and shrugs, staring at the ceiling but not really seeing past his own inner struggles.

"I don't know, Sam."

* * *

Dean takes a bite of his snickers and pays the cashier for gas. When he exits the store he notices a kid sitting alone on one of the benches next to the door. He pauses, the snickers bar sticking out of mouth as he glances towards his car. Sam is asleep against the door of the Impala. Chewing slowly, Dean makes up his mind and sits next to the kid, offering him a bag of M&Ms. The boy, no more than ten, looks up at him with honey colored eyes. He accepts the candy and flashes a gap toothed grin at Dean.

"Thanks."

Dean nods and finishes the rest of his own candy.

"So…what are you doing out here? Alone. At ten' o clock at night."

The boy pops some of the M&Ms in his mouth and then stops abrubtly, a sound of pleasant surprise spilling out of his mouth as he begins to devour the candy.

"I'm waiting on my dad. He'll be back soon," he says after he swallows another handful of the candy.

Dean scans the empty lot of the gas station.

"Shouldn't you be somewhere safer?"

The kid shakes his head, still chewing obnoxiously.

"My dad keeps me safe. He'll be here soon and then we're going home."

Dean sighs and sets the bag full of snacks on the ground in front of him.

"I'll wait with you."

The boy smiles at Dean, looking up at him through messy black bangs.

"Okay." The two wait in silence before the kid speaks again. "You look tired." Dean huffs out a laugh.

"Yeah. You could say that." Dean eyes the kid and leans back against the bench. "What's your name anyway?"

"Amadeus."

Dean quirks an eyebrow. "Okay…I'm Dean."

"I know." Amadeus empties the bag in his mouth, shaking it when no more of the candy falls out. Disappointed, he looks at Dean, who is staring suspiciously back at him.

"Who or what the hell are you?"

Amadeus smiles and turns back to staring at the gas pumps.

"Hey! Answer me!"

The boy tips his head back and kicks his feet. "It doesn't matter who I am. All that should matter are the people close to you. Do they matter to you, Dean?"

This conversation has officially gotten weird for Dean. He inches away from the kid and reaches for his bag.

"If they do matter then you'll stop pushing them away when they need you the most. They can't do this without you. It has to be you."

Dean's head swivels towards the not-boy and their eyes lock. Amadeus' gaze is intense and focused solely on Dean. That's...really creepy. And completely familiar.

_Holy shit._

"This is a war, Dean Winchester. You are a general."

Dean is gaping at Amadeus and everything is moving so goddamn _fast_-

"There's my father! Bye, Dean!"

Father? That means…

Dean's head whips around and his eyes dart around the empty gas station. There's nothing but the Impala. He turns back towards the kid and finds the space next to him empty. Dean stands and exhales a shaky laugh.

"You made it, you sneaky son of a bitch."

* * *

After speaking with Sam, Castiel decides to visit the same monastary that Seraphiel took him to. It is oddly comforting in a way. Castiel finds himself spending more and more time with the Winchesters, so being by himself is rare and...different. He has abandoned his search for God and he doesn't know what to do with himself, so he makes himself useful to the Winchesters whenever he can. The brothers seem to be doing alright as they stumble and trip through the seemingly inevitable ending of the world. One is always there to catch the other, and Castiel is grateful that they were able to repair their relationship, even if it will never be as strong as it once was. They are trying, and so Castiel will too.

He blinks and his surroundings change. He is now at an empty gas station. Castiel turns around and is met with the eyes of his brother.

"Hello, Castiel." Michael's voice is smooth as he studies his younger brother. "I have come to tell you that Seraphiel has returned to Heaven. He wished for me to let you know."

Relief that Castiel didn't know he needed floods through him and looks gratefully at Michael.

"Thank you, brother. Does that mean…"

"No. Father is not with us."

The two angels stare at each other. Castiel readies himself to return to the Winchesters, but at Michael's voice he halts.

"I know Father has told you to continue on your path, Castiel. But I will not stray from mine either. Dean and Sam will say yes and I will destroy Lucifer, because that is what is destined to happen."

Castiel takes in the resolute features of Michael and then vanishes.

He appears next to Dean, who happens to be in the bathroom shaving. At the angel's startling appearance Dean nicks himself with the blade.

"Ow! Damn it, Cas!"

"I apologize, Dean."

Castiel touches the cut on Dean's cheek and the wound heals itself.

"It feels funny when you do that." Castiel simply stares at him. Dean sets down the razor and sighs. "Cas."

"Yes?"

"Personal space?"

"Sorry."

Castiel steps back and clears his throat.

"I was just visited by Michael. Seraphiel has returned to Heaven."

"I know." Dean steps around Castiel and moves to sit on his bed. The angel cants his head to the side and trails behind the hunter. Sam looks up from a book and waves at him.

"Hey, Cas. Did you know Seph made it home?"

Castiel frowns. "Yes. I wasn't aware that you were...also aware."

"Dean spoke with him."

At Castiel's questioning look Dean smiles sheepishly.

"I meant to tell you, but you were…wherever you go when you're not with us. He was a little kid, dude. Said he was waiting on God."

"Did he tell you anything else?"

Dean laces up his boots and zips his duffel bag.

"Nah. Now come on, let's get out of here."

Sam grabs his things and snags Dean's coffee as he heads out the door. Dean shoulders his bag and looks back at Castiel.

"Hey, uh, sorry about...you know, earlier. I was...uh..."

"Being a dick," Castiel finishes, smiling without really smiling at Dean. The hunter chuckles and claps Castiel on the back.

"Exactly. Now, you coming or what?"

"Of course."

Dean follows Castiel out the door and into the warm light of a new day. There may be a war going on, but as long they stick together, Dean believes that eventually, the right will outweigh the wrong.

* * *

**The end! For real this time.**

**I never thought this story would ever be this long, or that I'd add a totally new angel in it. This has been a great first multichaptered fic for me and I thank all of you for your continued support. It really wouldn't have been as fun without all of you.**

**So...until next time! :) **


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